Learning To Let Go
by The Telepathic Hawk
Summary: Complete. They were trained to handle everything. But, not even FBI agents can handle losing one of their own. Not this way. SLASH elements.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, nor am I making any profit off of this work of fiction intended purely for entertainment.

Author's Notes: This is my first Criminal Minds fic, so please be forgiving when things get OOC, which I'm sure they will. I love and appreciate reviews, but they are never a requirement for me to keep writing. I write because I love to write. If you feel the need to flame, please refrain from attacks on my person (attacks on the work are just fine if you don't like it!) and please also refrain from using foul language. These types of flames do not get a point across any better than a civil flame. Thanks so much!

It was the headaches that first alerted them to the fact that something was wrong. Reid would come into the office in the mornings, pinching the bridge of his nose and shying away from the bright light of the windows. Before even saying hello or going to get some of the infamously horrible communal coffee, he would sit down at his desk, pull out the bottle of aspirin, and shake three or four of the little white tablets into his hand. At first, his second act of the day would be to go to the water cooler and get himself a cup to aid in the swallowing of the pills. Soon, though, they all noted that he was no longer waiting to get water to wash them down and was simply swallowing them dry as he sat at his desk. In reaction to this, they all seemed to come in a little bit earlier, making sure that they were there before he was. Someone always made sure that there was already a cup of water on his desk. Someone else always poured and prepared his coffee so that he wouldn't have to get up for it, and someone else again would make sure that the blinds were closed, at least first thing because the headaches always seemed worse in the mornings. They weren't even really aware that they were doing it. It just seemed natural to try to do as many little things as possible to make Reid's life run a little smoother without him really picking up on the fact that they were doing them. It had been so hard to get the young man they all remembered and loved to return to them, that they didn't want anything to jeopardize what they had just gotten back.

It was nearly four months after the Henkle incident, as they had come to call it, that they had really let themselves see that Reid was using the drugs that Tobias Henkle had given him in a distorted act of kindness, the drugs that he had taken from the lifeless body. It was Hotch who had found him, sitting on the floor in the bathroom stall, trying to stop himself from using, the tubing already around his arm, the syringe full. He had been crying, trying to talk himself out of it. In a rare breakdown of professional relationship, Hotch had fallen to his knees beside their resident genius, taken the syringe out of his hands, and wrapped his arms around the shaking form, pulling him close and whispering reassurances that everything would be all right, that they would make sure he got the help he needed, that they weren't going to let him go through it alone. And then, he'd gently refused, and bent the needle when Reid had begged him for just one more high.

It had been the most difficult time in Reid's life, getting clean. They had all known that if they turned him into a clinic, the Bureau would find out- they always did- and Reid would be released from field duty permanently. They also knew that the young man they had all come to love as friend, younger brother, and son would wither and die at a desk job, away from the surrogate family he had created for himself in all of them. So, they had all agreed, it would be the most difficult thing in many of their lives, but they would have to help Reid get clean, without the help of a clinic. Stupid, yes, they were fully aware of it, and dangerous. But, they either risked or they lost him completely for certain. Out of the two options, they chose to risk a little. Reid, in a lucid moment before the withdrawal became so bad that the only thing he could do was scream, agreed. He'd stayed in Morgan's apartment. It was the closest to the office so one of them could be with him at all times, two or more once the work day was over. They made excuses for him, told their superiors that he was out with a truly nasty viral infection. But, they just weren't sure how long it was going to work.

"It'll work for as long as he needs," Gideon had said quietly when they were all sitting in Derek's living room, exhausted, but glad that Reid seemed to have fallen into a fairly deep sleep for the moment, "And if it doesn't work for long we tell them he had to go see his mother because she hasn't been doing well. What we have to decide, right here, right now, is whether or not we feel doing this for Reid is worth our jobs. Because if they find out, you know we'll lose them and they'll probably force Reid into a rehab, then a sanitarium when the rehab isolation breaks him, as we all know it will. I, for one, am going to stay. No matter what."

"Jesus," Morgan had put his elbows on his knees and set his head in his hands, "Didn't really think about all that. But, I'm here. I'm going to be here. He needs us and we're nothing without him. He's the heart and soul of the team. Think about it. Think about how soon we almost fell apart when he was gone. What's that going to do if we know we could have helped? We don't help him now, we might as well all quit tomorrow anyway."

JJ had simply nodded, too much emotion in her throat to speak, but enough resolve in her eyes that they knew they could count on her to be as devoted as Morgan and Gideon were confessing to be.

"It's no secret that I have ambitions to be the director one day," Hotch had said quietly, his arms crossed as he sat on the arm of a chair, looking down at the floor, closing off from all of them, "I want to be successful. This can ruin me. I'd rather be ruined and know we helped him, then be successful and want to kill myself every time I visit him in a mental hospital."

"I'm new to the team. I don't know you all as well as I'd like. But, as hard as it may be to believe, I love him like family, like I always imagined family is supposed to love each other, like my real family never did. I'm in it for the long hall, just like the rest of you," Emily had been surprised and delighted when Gideon had reached out and squeezed her shoulder, just as she'd seen him do with the others, just as she had hoped he'd one day do with her.

"Holy hell, you all know I'm in," Garcia had made them all jump as she had called out from the doorway, "I'm not a profiler, but I'm not blind or stupid, please don't make those assumptions again," She had held up a key, "Spare key under the mat, pretty standard. Ushering Reid out before noon, everyone leaving at the same time, not so hard to figure out, guys. But, only because I've been watching just as closely as the rest of you."

The actual withdrawal had been the most horrible time in all of their lives. They all knew that it was the need for the drugs talking, but it didn't stop it from hurting when the young man threatened them with taking his own life if they wouldn't give him the drugs his body so desperately craved. It had been frightening to them, and even more frightening to him, when he began to have what they thought were seizures, just several hours after they denied him the use of his drugs. After some research though, they discovered that Reid's body wasn't actually seizing, but his muscles had to go through a series of spasms as they, too, adapted to the fact that Reid was no long taking a drug that was meant, in its original form, to stop pain. They had to get used to feeling again. They had been on the verge of calling an ambulance at more than one point when his fever had begun to soar, and he had begun complaining that he couldn't breathe, gasping like he was having as asthma attack. Emily had been on the verge of panic one day, three days into the grueling process, before Garcia had arrived and done something they hadn't expected.

She had simply ushered Reid into the bathroom, turned the water on as cold as it would get, and gotten into the bathtub with him, wrapping him in her arms as he sobbed like a child, and singing him into a fevered sleep. When he was finally deeply asleep, a real sleep, a healing sleep, Morgan pulled him out of the tub, dried him off and carried him to the bed in the only bedroom in the apartment. Then, after Emily left, he and Garcia had spent a quiet half hour sitting in the living room, unsure of what to say to each other. Finally Morgan did something he had been wanting to do for months and leaned over and kissed Garcia for the first time. But, Penelope wasn't a fool by any means, despite how many times she had dreamed the exact act would occur. She had pushed him away.

"If, when all this is over, you still want to kiss me, then, by all means, go for it, sugar. Until then, hands off. I'm not gonna let you be with me simply because of a high stress situation that has us both looking for an affirmation of love and life."

Morgan had been shocked. No woman had ever, in his life, turned him down, no matter what the situation. But, it had intrigued him. So, he had smiled and agreed. It had been a tense five days and seven hours- they had been counting- before Reid had finally awoken from a long night with his head over the toilet more often then not, his eyes completely clear and his hands steady without the aid of a drug for the first time in months. He'd taken one look at them all gathered in the doorway, coming to check up on him before they went into the office, and burst into tears.

"It's gone," he said quietly, through his tears. They'd left while Gideon had stayed to wrap Reid in his arms and rock the young man who had become so much like his son. It was a strange irony that they had all been with him at his very worst, delirious and screaming, but that they felt they were intruding watching his pure, emotional release. No, that was best left to Gideon.

Another week and a half spent in his own apartment, getting himself physically ready to go back to work, and he had come back to them, bright-eyed and ready to get back to the work they all loved. It was a struggle every day, to keep him off of the drugs they had worked so hard to get out of his system, but they did it together, and they were all the closer for it. There were still days, nearly a year after, when Reid felt the need for the drug so strongly that he asked them to keep him physically busy so that he didn't even have the time to think about going to get something, but they were more than happy to do so as long as it kept him clean and the young man they all loved so much with them. So, it made them extremely tense when, nearly a year and a half later still, he began to show signs. They were not signs of drug abuse, they were all sure, but after Reid's headaches persisted for more than two weeks they really began to get concerned.

"Are you okay, Reid?" Emily asked, quietly, while they were flying back from yet another case in yet another nameless town, in yet another nameless state. Okay, so maybe she was getting a little burnt out, but they had vacation time coming up, and she fully intended to spend at least three days thinking about nothing more complex than her tan and how long it might take her to get sick of surf and sun. But, for the moment, Reid was what was important.

"Sure, I'm fine," he looked up from his book, a small smile on his face, "Why?"

"Your headaches . . ." she trailed off, not wanting to insinuate anything.

"I have an appointment with a doctor next week," he assured her, "Hotch, Gideon, and JJ have already asked me. Don't worry, Emily," his voice had lowered, "I'm not using anything."

"I know that," she said quickly, putting a hand on his knee. She was surprised when he didn't even attempt to pull away, but just kept that small smile on his face. He had changed, at least with them, since his withdrawal. He was much more open, not nearly so awkward. She supposed it would be hard to be awkward with people you had gone through so much with.

"I know you do," he said, "Just like I know you had to hear me say it. We're profilers, Emily."

"Yeah, yeah," she ruffled his hair, laughing a little when he pushed her hand away, "Smartass." She murmured fondly, "Get some sleep."

Reid seemed to take her words to heart because he laid down, saying a quick thanks when she handed him his neatly folded sweater so that he could tuck it under his head. She watched him for just a moment more until she was certain that he was sleeping, if fitfully. Who could actually sleep on the plane? The others gave her knowing looks, matching her concern, as she made her way back to her seat, getting ready to work on her reports. He said that he had an appointment with a doctor next week and that he wasn't using anything. That would have to be enough. Yet, somehow, she couldn't help the worry that lodged itself in her chest, couldn't help the thought that things were going to get very, very hard in the very near future.


	2. Chapter 2

All Previous Disclaimers Apply

"So, basically, what you're trying to tell me is that there's nothing I can do, except take pain killers and wait?"

"I'm very sorry, Dr. Reid, but that is exactly what I'm trying to tell you."

Dr. Spencer Reid, youngest man ever to be allowed into the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, was struggling. He felt like he was drowning as he rode the bus to the stop nearest the FBI's headquarters, the place he had gone to work, on average, six days a week for nearly five years. How was he supposed to tell them? Should he even tell them at all? What would happen when he did? Would they kick him off the team? Would they forget he had ever existed once they didn't see him every day? He grasped his head in his hands, trying to stop the questions, trying to stop the voices, his own and the doctor's who had such a horrible bedside manner. Tact had obviously been a word she had never heard. Not that he could blame her. It was probably better to hear it outright than to listen to a doctor stumble over what they were trying to tell you until you were so nervous and scared that you couldn't even breathe. He definitely hadn't felt that way while he was in the doctor's office. He felt that way now, but he had already made up his mind as to what he had to do. He had to tell them.

He had had all weekend to move through the stages of acceptance, as his doctor's appointment to discuss what had been found in his tests had been Friday afternoon and Hotch had told him to just take off early. They would call if they needed him, just like they always did. Miraculously, his phone had not rung once during the course of the weekend and he'd been able to adjust his thinking to what the doctor had told him his prognosis meant for his life. But, it hadn't been easy. Denial had probably been the easiest. He had simply sent his scans to three other doctors that he personally knew from their dealings around the country. All had emailed him back with the same results, offered condolences, and a place to stay until it was time, should he need it. He had been polite in turning them all down. Then came the anger. That had been a fun one. He now had to replace several copies of his favorite books, a window pane in his bedroom, and the laptop computer he had thrown across the room. But, he wasn't by nature a violent person, and so anger for him had burned itself out relatively quickly. Bargaining had gone even faster. He wasn't even sure that he believed in a God, or even a higher power. Prayers probably had less effect when they went the way he'd been saying them.

"Dear God, or other nameless universal power. It's me, Spencer Reid, Doctor Spencer Reid. Though, I suppose you know that if you are truly universal. I'm not even sure that you exist. There is compelling evidence to suggest both the presence and the absence of a higher power controlling everything, but, neither case has ever been proven to me personally . . ." And so it had gone, before realizing twenty minutes later that he still hadn't even tried to make a deal with whatever higher power he had been praying to.

So, he had given up bargaining and moved smoothly into depression. For the first time in a very long time indeed, he had considered falling back on the drugs that his friends had done so much and risked so much to break him of. But, after checking his prescription and seeing that what he had been given was even more powerful than what he had used before, he had abandoned the idea. It really made no sense to try to do something illegal when you could do it perfectly legally. And, drugs made him lose himself. He had so little time left as it was that he didn't want to be parted from himself at any time. Just that thought had sent him even further into depression. So, he'd taken the one bottle of hard liquor he kept in the whole of his apartment, one bottle of whiskey he had bought nearly two years before because a date had told him it was always good to have at least some alcohol in your apartment, still nearly full, sat at the edge of his bed, and drunk himself silly. He kept himself drunk until late Sunday afternoon when he decided that enough was enough, and dragged himself to the shower to clean up.

Did it mean anything when you moved through the stages of acceptance so readily, he wondered? Because he had taken only two and a half days to do so, spending less that an hour on two of them, had he really gone through them at all? Or would he have to go through them all over again when it really hit him? But, then again, hadn't it already hit him?

He was thinking in circles again. It was something he hated more than just about anything. It got him and everyone else nowhere. It was going to be hard enough letting them know what was coming without keeping a clear and level head himself. He stepped off the bus, tilting his head back and taking a deep breath. The air was sweeter, the colors seemed sharper, despite the heavy pain medication in his system to keep the headache pain at bay, he was hearing things he had never let himself hear before. Of course, he knew that everything was exactly as it had always been, it was just his perception that had changed now that he knew what was going to happen, but he couldn't help but be appreciative of the colors of the changing leaves, the sound of young laughter as two young boys chased each other on the way to school, the smell blend of natural and manmade that created the scent of humanity.

He walked slowly toward the office, about a block and a half from his bus stop, by city measurements, his hands in his pockets, savoring the chill bite in the air. How would the others react, he wondered? In a way, he pictured them as separate manifestations of the stages of acceptance in and of themselves. Gideon. Gideon would probably be accepting of it right away. He would know that Reid had already done everything in his power to confirm it and that there was no possibility that he could be wrong. Hotch would be the same way. Physically, they would stay away from him for a time, not quite sure how to handle him. They had dealt with wounds, they had dealt with his withdrawal, but they had never dealt with anything like this and they wouldn't know if he would want to be touched, so for a time, they wouldn't. He would be grateful.

Emily would slip into the slot of depression quite nicely. She'd had a hard enough time integrating herself into their already set little family, that she wouldn't be able to simply move past the fact that there was going to be turmoil within it once again. Physically, she would probably take a moment to cling to him, hold him, look into his eyes, before letting him go and trying to work through it on her own. He would make sure to give her some time before approaching to talk it through, so that she could completely accept. He'd even try to make her laugh a little, though he doubted that he would succeed.

Garcia would fill the bargaining stage. She would insist that if he could just hang on she would find something. She was master of all information, she could go anywhere, be anything. He just had to give her time to do so. And she would probably pray to whatever god she worshipped as she used all of the tools at her disposal to try and find as much research and as many new procedures as possible that were being done relating to his condition. He would let her, it would make her feel better. Then, he would gently tell her what he had decided to do, and put his arms around her so that she could cry in his shoulder, which she would wan to do.

Morgan would be the embodiment of anger without really knowing at all what he was angry at. He would direct the anger, probably first at the doctors, then at whatever higher power he believed in, the rest of the team for no apparent reason, then Reid himself, for allowing it to happen. Of course, Reid would point out that he hadn't chosen for it to happen, but that would only make Derek angrier. He would probably push Reid, or punch him, a satisfying release to his anger for only a moment until he realized what he had done. Then, he'd be even more angry at himself, knowing that he had lost control. He would disappear for a couple of days, work though it, then come back and ask Reid, the younger man he considered his little brother, what he could do to help. Reid would hug him and tell him to just be himself and that would be all the help in the world. He would have enough people acting strangely about him that he wouldn't need Morgan doing it, too.

JJ would be in complete denial. She was his best friend. Ever since the Redskins game, and then the Henkle, they had grown closer than ever. She wouldn't be able to accept that she was going to lose him. Due to that fact, she would stay close, call all of the doctors he had called, demand to see the scans and have them explained to her. She would try to stay as physically close to him as she possibly could. And he would let her. He'd probably even let her stay the night tonight. But, starting tomorrow, there would be someone else at home who would need to know what was going on and JJ couldn't be there for that. It was something private, just between the two of them. Knowing he would have to tell the last person was what broke his heart, even more than knowing he would have to tell his team.

He arrived at the office, took the elevator up to their floor, as if in a fog. He almost smiled when he saw that they had done as they had been doing for the past couple of weeks. Someone had put water and his aspirin on his desk. Someone else had gotten him coffee. Someone had pulled the shades so that the light wouldn't aggravate his headache. Only, none of them knew that he was on something much stronger than aspirin now.

"Hotch," He set a hand to the doorframe of his boss's office and looked at the man sitting at his desk, a contented smile on his face. He had probably had a good deal of time to spend with Haley and Jack this weekend. Reid didn't want to ruin that mood, but if he didn't tell them now he knew he would lose the nerve and they deserved to know.

"Yeah, Reid?"

"Would you mind calling everyone into the conference room, Garcia, too, I have an announcement that I think I can only get through once."

The smile fell, "What is it, Reid?"

"Please, don't make me say it more than once. It's hard enough."

Five minutes later he found himself looking at them all in turn as they sat around the table, waiting for him to begin, apprehension and a growing knowledge that this was going to be nothing good in their eyes.

"As you know," he began, "I went to the doctor Friday afternoon to get the results of my tests. They weren't good. I've been having such bad headaches because there is a mass of dying cells pressing deep into my brain, causing it to slowly show signs of weakening and . . ."

"Reid, man, what you trying to say?" Morgan interrupted. Reid could see the fear in his eyes, in all of their eyes and decided to just get it over with. He tried to pitch his voice gently, to make it as small a shock as possible.

"I'm saying that I have an inoperable brain tumor," he smiled, just a little, tears in his eyes, "I'm dying."


	3. Chapter 3

All Previous Disclaimers Apply.

Author's Note: I just wanted to give the warning that this fic is meant to be a tragedy. Reid will eventually die. I hope that doesn't put anyone off and I apologize if it does. Also, one more warning so that readers don't come into the story with the wrong assumptions, Reid will not be paired with JJ in this fic. Reid will be paired with an original Male character. Like many other authors, I see Reid as gay. However, I don't see anyone else on the BAU as gay and so I will create my own character for him to be with though it will not be the main focus of the story. I hope this doesn't put people off either. I'm sorry if it does.

As always, should you feel the need to flame, please be civil about it. With thanks!

"How are you feeling?" It seemed like such a stupid question to ask. Jennifer Jareau couldn't help the tears that filled her eyes. How was he feeling? He was dying. How the hell did she think he was feeling?

"Okay, thanks," he murmured back from his position on the couch, lying on his back, a bag of frozen vegetables pressed against his bruising cheek.

JJ tried to hold them back, with all her might she tried, but she just couldn't help it when the tears in her eyes began to slip down her cheeks. She scolded herself mentally, told herself to suck it up. There had been enough tears today without her losing control of herself yet again. She angrily wiped the fallen from her cheeks, then simply wrapped her arms around her waist and hunched over at little, trying to hold in her sobs, when she really looked at him. He just looked so absolutely young, so very young. He was mostly knees and elbows as he laid on the couch, like a teenager not quite grown into his body. The bag of vegetables could only hide so much of the bruising on his face where one of their mutual friends had hit him earlier in the day. It could have been worse, he'd told her, and he'd been prepared for it. He was a profiler after all. He'd tried to get a laugh out of her. But, all she could do was wrap her arms around him and cry. The bruise made it so that he looked so much paler then he actually was, too pale, the dark lashes sweeping his cheeks only adding to the illusion that he was simply made of porcelain. Maybe it would be better for all of them if he was. Then it wouldn't hurt so much to know that they were going to lose him and there was nothing they could do about it.

They had gathered all together one more time earlier in the day, absent Morgan because he had backhanded Reid across the face, almost as hard as he could, just after Reid told them that he was dying. There had been nowhere to direct his anger and his grief because it was no one's fault and so he had taken it out on the one who had made him start to hurt so. Reid had simply looked at him, understanding in his eyes, even as he put a hand to the cheek Morgan had struck. Morgan had looked down at his hands in horror and stammered an apology. He didn't know why he did it. He was so sorry. Reid had tried to reach out for him, to assure him that all was forgiven, but Morgan had taken off, running as if the bats of Hell were at his heels. They would see him again when he had a chance to work through the anger, they all knew that. They'd spent a few hours trying to get some work done, while Garcia was researching, but they couldn't help the fact that their attention kept getting drawn to Gideon's office where he and Reid had holed themselves up after Reid had told them the bad news.

Garcia had put up such a fight when Reid had told them this morning. She'd been so certain that she could find something. There was always something on the net. New procedures, new treatments. There was always something. She would find it. She would make sure that he couldn't die because it just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he should have to go through so much in his short life, come through so much, only to have something like this happen. No, the net was everywhere, and she controlled the net. She would find something. Reid had simply nodded, understanding her need to try. She come back out of her office hours later, with a stack of papers four inches thick about brain tumors and their various treatments.

But, when Garcia had come out of her office, armed and ready with so much information, Reid had simply pushed her gently into one of the conference room chairs and taken all of the paperwork from her, making a dramatic show of putting it all in the trashcan. Then, he'd sat next to her and wrapped his arm around her, allowing her to set her head to his shoulder while he told them all quietly what he had decided was going to happen for however long he had left to live.

"I spoke with my doctor about it for hours on Friday afternoon. No one can really tell me how long it's going to take before I can't function normally. Until then, I would rather just go on with life as if nothing is wrong."

"But, Reid," Hotch had protested, "Treatments . . . surgery or chemotherapy or something . . ." It had been the first time most of them had ever seen their self-assured boss at a loss for words.

"Will do me no good," Reid had answered quietly, "The mass is too close to my brain stem. If they try to remove it there's a ninety nine point seven percent chance that they'll damage the cord somehow and I'll end up living the rest of my life as a vegetable. Not quite appealing. And, as far as they can tell, the tumor is benign. It's a common misconception that only cancerous brain tumors are dangerous. Chemotherapy won't do anything. The cells are already dead. For some reason that the doctors don't understand they simply formed a tumor instead of disintegrating into my body like normal peoples' do. And no matter what they do now, the tumor will grow until it damages too much of my brain for my body to continue living."

"But, it doesn't make sense," Emily had a hand pressed to her forehead and her eyes closed, "Why you? Is there some sort of physiological reason that they can tell? Just . . . give me a why, Reid. I need it."

"There is no why, Emily," Reid stood up and walked over to her, wrapping her in his arms, "Sometimes things just are. There is no history of tumors in my family, I've never had a truly traumatic head injury, and I definitely didn't grow up around toxic or nuclear material. There is no why. There is so much about human anatomy that is still a mystery."

"That's not good enough," she'd whispered, remaining stiff in his embrace.

"I know. It isn't for me, either. But, it could be a day or it could be a year before my body truly starts shutting down. I would appreciate it if, until that happens, we could all forget everything I've told you today."

JJ couldn't hold back the sob that came when she remembered him telling them that this afternoon, and choked on it.

"JJ?" Reid opened his eyes and looked over at her, trying her hardest to hold back her sobs.

"You're asking for the impossible, Reid," she cried out, turning away from him, "We can't just forget what you told us today! I can't just forget."

"I need you to try, JJ." His voice was so low and quiet she wasn't sure she'd caught it, but she turned around to face him anyway, holding back another sob to see tears running down his own cheeks as he sat up and looked directly at her, "I need you to try and forget because I need to try to forget for as long as I can. I can't spend every day wondering if I'm going to have a seizure that will end everything. I want my last days to be like this last year. I've been happy, JJ. I want to be happy for as long as possible. I'm going to be living with this disease, JJ, for as long as I can. I'm not going to be dying from it until I have to be."

She almost smiled, "Too much Broadway, Spence." She didn't try to hide the tears as she moved toward him, joining him on the couch.

"Lance would say there's never too much Broadway. And you got the reference, so what does that say about you?"

"I don't know," She sniffled as he lay down again and she pushed hair away from his eyes, "Frankly, right now I don't care."

"That's the JJ I know," he smiled even as his eyes were closing. She knew he had to be exhausted. It had been a very hard day, for all of them. And he still had one more major obstacle ahead of him.

"I love you, Spence," she murmured, kissing his forehead.

"Love you, too," he breathed out, almost on a sigh, already mostly asleep. JJ looked around the apartment, much more lived-in in the last year and sighed when her eyes lighted on a picture she herself had taken. She just hoped he was strong enough to stay with Spence till the end. As much as Spence would want to say that he could do it with only the team, he would need him, probably more than all of the rest of them combined. So, she did something she rarely did anymore. She prayed.

Please let him be strong enough. Reid needs him.


	4. Chapter 4

All Previous Disclaimers Apply.

"Hey, baby!" Haley Hotchner called out as she heard the front door of the house she and her husband had bought shortly after he was promoted to FBI headquarters open and close slowly. Uh oh. She hurried to make sure that she was ready to hold Jack out to him when he got into the kitchen. Haley was a woman who knew her husband. When he opened the door that slowly, that sadly, something had happened in his day that he would need comforting for. She had found that there was no better comfort than feeling your child in your arms and knew he felt the same.

"Come on, little man," she whispered to the two and a half year old seated at his miniature play table, coloring, "Daddy's had a hard day. He needs you."

"Daddy sad?" Jack asked, extremely perceptive for a toddler.

"Yeah, baby. Daddy's sad."

"Why?" Haley smiled and ruffled his hair. It was a word he never tired of asking and she, secretly, hoped he would never tire of asking. Whole worlds could be contained in just a one word question that so many people seemed to forget as they got older. If you never questioned, you never learned, but Jack was certainly learning. More and more every day. He amazed her every time she looked at him.

"I don't know, sweetie, maybe you can find out?"

"Yep," Jack put down his crayons and held his arms out to her, asking to be picked up. She obliged him and reacted automatically when he turned his face up for a kiss, pressing her lips to his.

"Aaron? Sweetheart?" she was a little scared as she walked thorough the formal dining room. Even when he had had a hard day, he never failed to answer her. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him standing in the living room, looking at the pictures up on the mantle in the dying light. She wasn't really sure why there was a fist of fear in her chest, but there was just something in the way he was standing, something in the way he was staring so intently at the photograph of his team, taken at their Christmas office party, that made it hard for her to swallow. She stopped dead in her tracks when he turned to look at her and there was a pain in his eyes that she hadn't seen since the first time he'd had to take a guilty life to save an innocent one.

"A life is still a life," he'd told her. She'd held him for hours that night, trying to chase away the guilt, anger and sorrow. This was not the same, she realized, it was somehow more and he would need her again.

"Jack, baby," she whispered, nuzzling his cheek, "Why don't you give Daddy a kiss and then we'll see if you can play with Ethan for a little bit over at Miss Lisa's, okay?"

"'Kay," he answered brightly, squirming to get out of her arms. Her son never passed up an opportunity to play with the little boy across the street, just three months older than himself and Haley knew that Lisa and Brent would understand once she explained what was going on. She watched carefully, looking for any clue that might tell her what was distressing her husband so, as Jack ran to his father. Aaron picked him up for a moment, looked into his eyes, kissed him, and then held him close for a good thirty seconds before setting him on the floor again. Bless his little heart, Jack seemed to sense that something was wrong and he didn't squirm when Aaron held him, just waited patiently to be put down.

"I'll be right back," she mouthed as Jack took her hand to lead her from the room, telling her quickly what he wanted to take over to Miss Lisa's. Aaron nodded vaguely, turning back to the pictures on the mantle. It only took five minutes to throw a few toys and a pair of pajamas in a little bag that Jack could carry all by himself and they were crossing the street hand in hand.

"Haley?" Brent, Lisa's husband, looked concerned when he answered the door.

"Hi, Brent," She ran a hand through her hair, almost in frustration when Jack pulled on her hand to be released so that he could go find Ethan, "Look, I really hate to impose on you guys like this, especially on such short notice, but do you think that maybe Jack could stay the night?"

"Sure, sure, that's fine," Brent crouched down, putting his face level with Jack's, "Hey, Jack. Ethan's in the kitchen waiting for dinner with Jamie. Why don't you go join them?" Jack looked up at his mother and smiled when she nodded and let go of his hand. He didn't exactly run, but it couldn't be called a walk either, as he raced to join Ethan and Jamie in the kitchen. Jamie was Brent and Lisa's first child, the child they'd had while they were still in high school, and he was nearly fifteen years old by now. He had a way with a child that was hard to explain, always patient and kind. The younger boys adored him and aspired to be just like him.

"Is everything all right, Haley?" Lisa joined her husband at the door, compassion and worry warring for dominance over her facial features.

"I'm not sure," Haley answered shortly, impatient to be with her husband.

"Is Aaron okay?"

"Physically," Haley decided that the truth was the better of the routes she could take at this point, "He hasn't said a word since he got home a few minutes ago. I get the feeling he didn't want to break down in front of Jack."

"Did something happen at work?"

"Honey," Brent put a gentle hand to his wife's shoulder, "Haley's about to tear her hair out she wants to get back to Aaron so bad. Don't worry about Jack, Haley. We'll take care of him tonight, food, board and entertainment. You just go be with Aaron."

"Thanks, guys," she hugged them both briefly and turned to cross the street.

"Call us if you need anything at all," Lisa called after her. Haley didn't even bother to turn around, though she was certain they would understand.

"Aaron?" she called as she entered the front door, making a beeline for the living room. He'd taken off his suit jacket, and was now sitting on the floor, simply staring at the picture from the Christmas party that he had pulled off of the mantle. She crossed the room in three quick strides and knelt down next to him, "Babe, what is it?"

"He doesn't look like he deserves to have anything bad happen to him, does he?" His voice was so quiet that at first she wasn't even sure that she'd heard it.

"Who, baby?" she made sure to pitch her voice low, gentle, but didn't touch him yet. His voice was quiet, but she could see that he was tense, coiled like a spring. He might snap if she tried to touch him at the moment. She was not a profiler, but she had learned a thing or two being married to Aaron Hotchner for so long. It was better to wait until he reached out for her when he was in a state like this.

"Reid," he answered. She looked over at the picture and realized that Aaron was running a finger over the young man's form again and again, almost obsessively focusing on it. Oh, no. God, please no . . . She felt her throat constrict.

"He's not using again, is he?" she asked quietly, wanting more than anything to put a hand to his shoulder. She had not seen Reid while he was going through withdrawal, had not wanted to get involved, especially with Jack being so young, but Aaron had come home every night that he wasn't watching over the young man looking like he had just been through war. It had put a strain on him unlike nothing else she had ever seen and she could only imagine what Reid had gone through in those six days.

"No," Haley was almost frightened by Aaron's short, ironic, bark of a laugh, "I almost wish he were. That, at least, we could do something about."

She worked hard to swallow around the lump in her throat, "What is it then, Aaron? Please. You're scaring me."

"I'm sorry," he looked up at her, genuine regret in his eyes, "I don't mean to scare you, Hales." He reached out and took her hand in his, inviting her to pull him close, inviting her in. She did so, wrapping him in her arms, knowing instinctively that he would have to put his ear to her chest. He would have to have the confirmation of her heartbeat. It was something he always did when he was upset.

"What's wrong with Reid, baby? Won't you tell me?" she whispered, placing a kiss to the crown of his head, "He's been through so much. What could happen to him now?"

"You would think that," She was surprised to hear that his voice was choked with emotion, even more surprised to feel hot tears soaking into her t-shirt, "You would think he's been through enough. If there's a god up there, he's a sadistic bastard."

She wanted to say something, but his next words had tears springing into her eyes, "Reid's dying, Hales. He's got a brain tumor that's going to slowly stop his body from functioning."

She gasped, pulled him closer. She'd only met the young man a couple of times, but she'd been impressed by the innocence he seemed to exude despite all he'd seen and the way he seemed to always be on the verge of something great, not quite there yet, but almost. She knew Aaron considered him a younger brother just as much as his own biological family and she could only imagine what kind of hell he was going through in his mind right now.

"But, there are treatments, surgeries, procedures . . ." she trailed off, feeling him begin to shake.

"I called Reid's doctor today, and had him tell me everything about Reid's condition. I didn't tell Reid, but I even made him courier over copies of Reid's scans and sent them to other doctor's around the city. They all agreed. There's nothing to be done. And so, anywhere from a month to a year from now, we're going to lose him," She waited for it, bracing herself for the storm that was just about to break, "And it's not fair!"

"Shh, baby, shh . . ." she murmured again and again, rocking him slowly, trying to comfort him through her own tears. She didn't say that it was alright. Because it wasn't alright. It could never be alright. And it might never be okay again. Maybe God really was just a sadistic bastard. How could this happen to a sweet young man who was supposed to have the rest of his life ahead of him? Aaron needed a why, and so did she, but she knew there would never be one. So, instead of questioning anymore, she simply laid her head on top of his, continued to rock, and cried silently with him as he sobbed himself out.

"He's so young."

"I know."

"He doesn't deserve this."

"I know."

"He's, Jesus, he's like my . . . little . . ."

"I know, baby, I know. Shh, baby, shh. We're going to get through this. We have to help Reid get through this. I can only imagine how scared he must be."

An hour later, after they had both cried themselves dry, they shared a shower, trying to find a way to feel human again, not beings of sorrow. There was nothing sexual about the way they clung to each other under the warm spray, nor in the way they stumbled to their bed completely nude and held each other close under the sheets. This was pure comfort. And in the morning, when they woke up, it was with new resolve in their eyes. If Reid wanted his last days to be happy, to forget about his impending death, then, by God, they were going to make sure his last days were the best of his life. They sealed the silent pact with a kiss, and then made love with wild abandon, reaffirming that they were, in fact, still alive.

"No matter if it's a boy or a girl," Hotch whispered to his wife as they lay in the afterglow, his hand pressed to her flat stomach, both absolutely certain that she would conceive, "The name is Reid." She simply nodded and pulled him in for another kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

All Previous Disclaimers Apply.

Author's Note: I'd just like to say a brief thank you to those who have reviewed this story. It keeps me encouraged and I really appreciate it. So . . . Thank You!

"Sugar, you know no one blames you," Penelope Garcia murmured as she lay in the large bed with the man who had been first crush, then friend, and now lover. More than lover, she mused, as they laid in the dark, the only light in the room coming from the streetlamp just outside of the apartment they shared. There was no way she could call him simply her lover, not anymore. She had been able to call him her lover when they had gone to bed together for the first time. She had been able, still, to call him her lover nearly a month after that. A month of pure, not being able to keep their hands off of each other for more than a couple of hours, attachment. But, no, just after that time and all the way up to now, he was something more than lover. Derek Morgan was her love.

It had been so easy to fall in love with him. He'd simply smiled at her, and nodded, when she did the one smart thing she'd ever done when it came to attractive men and told him that he would have to wait to be with her. At the time she had kicked herself mentally for days, telling herself that she had lost the one chance she had with the object of her affection of many months. She had spent many a sleepless night, replaying the moment again and again in her head. The way he had leaned over, looked into her eyes for just a brief moment, and then pressed his lips to hers in the barest whisper of a kiss. Before thinking came into it, she was letting him kiss her, really kiss her, the kind of kiss that went straight down to your toes, then back up to your head to make you dizzy. When he'd finally pulled away just a little, only one betraying little thought could enter her head.

Reid's asleep in the next room and still going through withdrawal. What the hell are you doing, girl?

So, she'd pushed him away, and told him he had to wait, because she would not get together with him simply because they were in a high stress situation. It was perhaps the smartest thing she had ever done, and she'd known it at the time, but it didn't make her feel any better. He had waited two long weeks before making any move at all. But, just when she had resigned herself to the fact that he had only kissed her because of the situation, he had finally come to her. She had been in her office, finishing the last of her reports, the rest of the team had only just gotten in from location. If anything they did could be called easy, this had been an easy case. They had gotten every missing child back safely to their families and the kidnapper was behind bars with a court date already set. She had decided never to commit a crime in a small town. Small town justice was swift and lasting. No one would blame them if the jury decided the man needed to fry. Hell, she wouldn't have blamed them.

"Hey, baby girl," he'd murmured softly, closing the door to her office slowly and flipping the lock.

"Hey yourself," she'd been perhaps a little too bubbly in her nervousness, standing and putting her hands on her hips, "Have you brought me chocolate? You know all goddesses demand tribute."

"Tribute," He'd laughed a little and closed the distance between them in less than a second, taking her in his arms and covering her lips with his own. And the only thought that could run through her head was: Yes. This is how it's supposed to be. Her arms had twined around his neck and he had pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, letting her take from him as much as he was taking from her. Just as she thought her legs might give under her, he had pulled away, kissing her lips chastely once more before tucking her head under his chin and simply swaying with her gently to a tune only they could hear.

"That always works," she'd not been able to resist the joke, "But, next time don't dare enter without chocolate of some kind."

"You said if I still wanted to do it after everything was over then I could," he'd pressed a kiss to her neck and she hadn't been able to help the sigh, "Well, mama, I've wanted to do that since that night. Hope I waited long enough."

"Long enough?" she'd laughed, "You waited any longer and I would have had to attack you at your desk!"

"Good to know," he'd pulled away to look down at her, and then reached behind him to grab her coat, "Come on, let's get out of here. I can finish my reports tomorrow."

"Excuse me, Mr. Morgan," she had pulled away, a smile on her face, "Just what are you trying to insinuate? I'm not easy, baby. You're gonna have to wine and dine me before you get this girl home with you."

"Counted on it," he'd volleyed back, just as easily, "All the good ones are worth waiting for. And, baby girl, you're more than good."

"Sweet-talker. Come on. I'm starved."

The happiest times of her life had started that night at a simple late night diner that had unbelievable pie and horrible coffee. Truthfully, she had never been the most confident girl in love. It was hard, when you were not what society termed exceedingly beautiful because you weren't twig thin and you didn't have the form of a twelve year old boy. But, with Derek, everything she had ever tried to convince herself she was, he really made her believe. With Derek, she was beautiful and sexy and her size didn't matter because he didn't want any other woman by his side. They would go dancing and there would be plenty of young women, half her size or less, trying to catch his eye and they would all go home disappointed because he only had eyes for her. She had to admit, she had been worried. Even Reid had questioned if Derek had ever been with the same woman more than once, but she discovered that he loved with the same single minded ferocity he showed on the job. When he was with her, he was with her. And he wanted to be with her for a very long time. No other woman had made him want that and so he had moved on until he found the one who did.

It had only been a few weeks before they had decided that it just made more sense to move in together. They were rarely apart to begin with. That had been the start of a new part of their relationship all together. They'd had to learn about each other all over, and learn to compromise when neither of them had compromising attitudes. She'd learned that when he was working out not to bother him. It was the time he used to think things through and he needed it to be private. He'd learned that there was times when she just needed him to say he was sorry and offer to take her to dinner, even if what she got upset about didn't seem to make any sense to him. She was very internal and sometimes she was set off by something infinitesimally small because many small things had built up over time. And of course, there had been the normal decline of the sex life for a time as they got adjusted. There was nothing less romantic than yelling at each other because of toothpaste left in the sink and towels left on the floor. But, they'd come through it all. They'd come through the fights and the adjustment, to become a healthy, thriving couple. Of course, they could still fight like cats and dogs at times, but what couple couldn't?

Keeping their relationship out of the office was the hardest thing they had to do. They knew that no one would fault them their love, nor would anyone want to see them split up, but in their job they had to have a definite line. What happened at home, stayed at home. They couldn't compromise a case because they were mad at each other from a fight they'd had that morning. Nor would they go home mad at each other because something hadn't gone right during one of the cases. They knew the team knew, of course. It was in the little things they did now. He always called her just before they went out to apprehend the unsub so that they could hear each other say "I love you," and he always called when it was over and they were on their way home. Their playful telephone banter had taken on a decidedly sexual overtone. Things like, "I am so going to tear all your clothes off when I get home," and "I am so hot for you right now," became regular comments until even Reid stopped blushing at them.

Reid. Garcia sighed and snuggled closer to Derek. It was hard to believe they were going to lose him. They'd just gotten him back. Time could fly so quickly when everything was going so well. She had taken her time to mourn. She'd done it nearly all day, sobbing as she flitted from site to site trying to find anything to save her boy. But, he had asked them. He had asked them, in that stunningly simple and disarming way of his, to forget all he had told them. He wanted to live life for as long as he could. And she was never one to take something like that away. So, she would do exactly what he had asked. Until it was impossible to ignore, she was going to forget what had been said. She had to. It was the only way she was going to keep herself sane in these next few months. Reid wanted his life to continue as if nothing were wrong. So, she would see to it for as long as she could that nothing was wrong. Perhaps, well, most likely, hell, who was she kidding? It was a fact that she would be spending more time with him, trying to show him exactly what they all loved about him that they could never seem to express. They would laugh more, they would probably end up crying more, and they would simply be. She'd dealt with terminal disease before, and knew what it was like to regret spending the last days and weeks of someone's life in a constant state of mourning. There were regrets . . . regrets that could never be lessened. But, with Reid she would make sure that there were no regrets, for either of them.

She couldn't say the same for her lover, the man who was lying with her, silent in the bed. Derek had stumbled in the door only an hour before looking, for all intents of purposes, as if he had gone through war. His shirt had been torn so badly at the collar that she knew it could never be mended and his pants were destroyed by dirt and blood stains. She hadn't had to ask what he'd been doing all day. He'd gone out and found as many fights as he could, trying to work through the anger and confusion he felt trapped inside of himself. She could only imagine what it was like, to be so angry you would strike out at the one person who needed it least. Of course, as she had already told him, no one blamed him, not even Reid.

"I hit him, Pen . . ."

"I was there. You were angry. We're all angry. Reid understood. Stop tearing yourself apart over it. Apologize and move on. He'll need you."

"Yeah, I know . . . I just . . ." How could he explain it to her? How could he explain the shame he felt inside, still? Reid had told them he was dying and instead of reaching out to comfort him, he had hit him . . . hard. He hadn't pulled anything when he had backhanded Reid this morning. And all Reid had done was look at him, understanding, almost as if he had expected it. Who was he kidding? Reid probably had expected it. Genius would think everything through before he told them. He probably knew exactly how all of them would react.

It just didn't make sense. None of it made any sense at all. Why Reid? He was so damn young. They had all watched him grow and he had grown into a fine man, but he would always be theirs. Their boy. Their youngest. With the exception of Gideon, who saw him as a second son, they all thought of Reid as their little bother. They couldn't help it. Three years of a team that hadn't changed in make-up would do that to people. They fell into roles. Gideon was their father figure, the one with the most experience, the one they all looked up to, the one who stayed by your side the whole time if you were in the hospital for any reason. Hotch was their boss, and their big brother, not quite as experienced as Gideon and not quite the person you always went to if you were having a problem, but getting there. He took their failures, and their guilt, onto himself and led them without falter, but wasn't afraid to ask Gideon when he knew that there was something he couldn't quite handle. His girl was the one they all turned to for a laugh and counted on to be there to supply it. He knew that he was their muscle, in a way, to make sure that when things had to be done right away they didn't wait around for the bureaucrats to catch up. JJ reminded them that there was a whole other world outside of their little team and that sometimes they were going to have to interact with it. Emily was their logic. She was the one who grounded them when they all began to get too emotionally involved, as they tended to do quite often. They had been dubious about her placing with them at first, but now they knew they couldn't be without her. And Reid. He'd said it before, but it was just as true now. Reid was their heart and soul. Reid made them all better than they were, whether it be in the field or simply in life. His innocence kept them from getting jaded. His enjoyment of simple things, despite how much he knew, forced them all to see wonder in the world around them even when they didn't want to. How were they supposed to get along without him?

Reid had said those two little words. "I'm dying." And suddenly his world had come crashing down around him. Everything had been perfect. He had the love of his life by his side every day and in his bed every night, the team was working together better than they ever had before, gaining them the unofficial title as the best team the Bureau had produced in a very long time, and Reid had been clean for over a year. But, just two little words and he'd been back in some of the darkest places he'd ever been in his life. The only thought really able to permeate had been: Why Reid? No answers. Without answers he had let himself slip back into a very destructive pattern that he'd thought he had broken himself of years ago. What he didn't understand, he let himself hate. Hate was simply a physical manifestation of extreme anger, and he'd needed to release it before it tore his chest apart, so he'd hit Reid. For one sickening second, the hit had been satisfying, to see the pain in Reid's eyes. Then, he'd realized what he'd done and he'd had to run away. Try to outrun the anger. Try to outrun the pain. Try to outrun the shame. The emotions were still circling around in him, but to a lesser degree after all the fights he had won today.

He wouldn't cry. Not now. He had cried earlier, without even realizing it. He had been crying during all of the street fights he had sought out, but even on the street, there was a kind of code. If the man kicked your ass once, you didn't mention anything that might make him do it again. So, he didn't realize he was crying until he couldn't see anymore. But, they weren't tears of sorrow. They were tears of rage, of confusion, of hate. It just seemed like such a waste. He was an incredible kid. (Not such a kid, he reminded himself.) Why the hell would something like this happen to someone like him? No answers. There were no answers to be found. And that only made him angrier. He must have tensed, or made a growl from the back of his throat because the next thing he knew, Penelope was sitting up, pinning his arms next to his sides, and glaring at him for all she was worth.

"You haven't been listening to a thing I've said for the past hour, have you? Well, gorgeous, I'm only going to say it one more time so you better listen good." Her normally amiable face was completely serious, so he only nodded. Her voice was strong when she began, "This is not about you. Yeah, so you hit him. It was something you shouldn't have done. But, Reid forgives you and no one else blames you. Now, you're just being self-indulgent. What are you going to do? Avoid him like the plague for the next month because you still feel guilty? What if he only has the next month? What if he only has the next three days? Think about it! So, you're angry. We're all angry. So, you're confused. We're all confused. So, you want to know why. Damn it, Derek, we all want to know why! But, sometimes you have to take what you can get. And what we have is time to make sure Reid knows how much he means to us. So just . . . get over yourself already!"

By the time she was done, her voice had risen in pitch and volume until she was practically screaming at him. She punctuated her last sentence with a strong slap to his face and a snort of derision before releasing his arms and getting out of the bed. He could only lay in the bed for a long moment, shocked at what she had just said. Then, with a chagrined moan, he had to admit to himself that she was right. Good God, he'd been selfish. It wasn't about him, was it? And yet, every damn thought that had run through his head for almost six hours had been in relation to him, how Reid's news made him feel. He had acted like a self-centered prick. Damn it. And now he'd wasted a whole day. He ran a hand over his face.

"Pen, baby girl," he called as he rolled out of the bed and walked through the small apartment to find her at the kitchen counter, leaning over the sink and looking out the window the apartment courtyards. She looked beautiful when she was exasperated with him. She looked beautiful anytime, but she looked particularly beautiful standing at the counter, her hair down and around her shoulders, her black silk nightgown accenting and enhancing all of her best features, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. You're right."

She could never stay mad at him for very long, "You're not just saying that to ensure that you'll get some tonight?"

"Maybe a little," he smiled when she turned to look at him, "No. You're right, really. I was being a selfish bastard. I just . . . I'm scared, Pen. I'm scared to lose him." She knew how much it cost him to admit it.

"We all are," she whispered, turning away from the counter and holding out her hand for him, offering much more than that. He took it readily and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Is this okay?" he whispered, "I mean, I know that Reid's dying. It's not like I could forget, even if I wanted to, but . . . I can't be angry anymore. I'm still scared, but it's not overwhelming."

"Sugar," she murmured, "I think it's the best place for you to be. I think it's a place we'll all need to work to find. My mother used to tell me never to mourn something I hadn't yet lost. We're going to lose him. No matter what we do now, we have to face that. But, we can't go around acting as if we've lost him already. What kind of last days would those be?"

"Mama, you do have a way with words," he laughed.

"Yeah," she murmured, pressing a kiss to the inside of his throat, "Doesn't mean I'm quite in that place yet. So, Mr. Morgan, take me to bed, make love to me, and make me forget everything. Please."

"My pleasure, baby girl, my pleasure."


	6. Chapter 6

All Previous Disclaimers Apply.

Author's Note: I have not seen all of season two quite yet, just episodes here and there, so Gideon's failed marriage is all fabrication and speculation on my part. If there was something mentioned in an episode I didn't see to the contrary, I apologize for the lack of continuity! As always, if you feel the need to flame, please be civil. Thank you so much!

"What am I doing here?" Jason Gideon voiced the thought he'd had nearly two dozen times just since getting out of his car and starting to walk up the driveway to the house he knew only so well, but had only visited once. He had begun walking up the drive three times, only to turn back toward his car again. He ran a hand through his hair and over his face again, as he had done six other times in five minutes. What was he doing here? This was ridiculous. He turned back to his car a final time, intent upon simply leaving.

"Dad?" Gideon froze when he heard the voice that he knew so well, and yet didn't hear nearly as often as he wished he could. Though, he mused as he turned around slowly, he didn't really have a right to wish such things because it was mostly due to his own reservations and hang-ups that he didn't see his son and his family more often.

Steven looked exactly like Gideon himself had looked at his age, save for the fact that he had his mother's light eyes and his nose turned up at the tip, just like Elaine's. Olive skin, dark hair, crow's feet coming in at his eyes despite his young age. Gideon could only hope that the lines on Steven's face were more from laughter and smiling than from worry and strain, though he didn't know that either. He seemed a little thinner than the last time Gideon had seen him and he had to wonder if Steven had been working too hard. But, then again, what did Steven even do? Looking at Steven in the doorway, his face puzzled, but not unpleasantly so, made Gideon realize . . . he didn't know his son at all. Then again, he hadn't spent any real time with him since he was ten or so.

His relationship with Elaine, Steven's mother, had always been a tumultuous one, from the moment they had met in a bar after one of his first cases with the FBI, before he was with the BAU, until the moment he had come home from one of his first cases with the BAU to find his wife and his young son gone from their home, a letter on the hall table. He had never really blamed Elaine for leaving like she did. There were only very few women who could deal with the type of lifestyle having a husband in the FBI subjected them to. Elaine was not one of those women. She was a beautiful, passionate, and very loving woman who had needed more than he could provide. She had needed herself and Steven to be the most important things in his life, but that could never be. When he was home, she and Steven were his everything, but when he was in the office or out in the field, his current case had to be his everything. It was just the way it was. To give her credit, she had tried. For seven long years after Steven had been born she had stuck it out. There had even been a couple of years in there where it looked like they were going to make it. But, then, he had come home with a bullet wound to the shoulder. A wound he hadn't even called to let her know about. He'd known that night that he'd lost her forever. She hadn't screamed. She hadn't thrown things. She had done something worse. She had just sat on the bed and cried softly while they spoke.

"I can't do this anymore, Jason." Her voice had been soft and resigned.

"I know."

"I don't even know if we'd be notified if you were killed. Does anyone on your team even know you have a wife and little boy?"

"I'm not sure." He'd tried to be completely honest with her, but it wouldn't have helped to tell her that no one on that team really knew anything personal about anyone else. Would it have helped, he wondered, if his team then had been as close and open as his team now? Would it have changed anything? Would it have made her feel more secure, knowing that others knew he loved her? Because he had loved her. He'd loved Elaine as much as he could at the time. It just wasn't enough then. Had their relationship started today, well . . . who knew? It was better not to dwell on the past. Especially with the present staring him square in the face through Elaine's eyes.

"Steven," he cleared his throat uncomfortably, "I'm sorry. I know it's late."

"No, not at all," Steven's smile was surprisingly comfortable, with a little bit of happy shock to the edges, "I mean, I always leave messages with a secretary or one of your agents, but I never expected that you'd actually show up. I mean, it's great to see you, Dad."

There it was. That little bit of discomfort, that little bit of doubt. Not on Steven's part, because he was still just smiling. He'd stepped out of the doorway a little, but left the door open invitingly. No, the doubt was in Gideon's mind. There had been a period in Steven's life, through most of high school and college, when he didn't want to see his father at all. But, it seemed that all of the sudden one day he'd decided to understand his father, to forgive him his work love that had kept him so sparsely in his son's life for so many years. Gideon often attributed it to Steven's wife, a beautiful young artist who had told him at their wedding, just as he was about to leave, that life was too short. He hadn't understood it then, but he liked to think that perhaps he was beginning to understand it now. Now that Reid was . . .

No, he didn't want to think about it. But, then, Steven was just a year older than Reid. How would he feel if he were to discover that his son was dying tomorrow? The same way he felt about Reid. His heart was breaking but, no one would ever see. He would have to be strong for them all over the next few months. He had his time with Reid, but what of Steven? It was why he had come here tonight, even after all they had gone through today with Reid's news. He was afraid that if he didn't come tonight he would lose all the resolve Reid had helped him gain this afternoon as they spent hours talking about everything and nothing. Toward the end of their conversation Reid had shocked him by standing, taking the portrait of Steven and his wife on their wedding day out from behind the other pictures on his low bookshelf, and setting it on his desk, right in front of him.

"You know, Gideon, that I've always thought of you as the father I never really had. But, you already have a son. Don't let him turn into a regret when he doesn't have to be." His face must have been shocked because all Reid did was smile and shrug, "Dying seems to have a way of making one say things one would normally keep to oneself."

Gideon had felt the tears in his eyes, had seen them reflected in Reid's, but both knew neither would let them fall, even as Gideon stood and put a hand to Reid's shoulder, "Way I see it, I have two sons, Reid."

"I know," Reid had smiled, a true smile that Gideon couldn't help but reflect, "I just don't want you to regret knowing one and not the other when the one will be leaving you sooner."

"Dad, is everything all right?"

"Yeah, Steven, everything's fine," As he walked toward his son, Gideon remembered the message left on his desk, asking him to a dinner party with Steven and his wife, "I'm sorry I'm late. And I should have brought wine or something . . ."

"No, Dad, not at all. I'm just thrilled you're here. We already told everyone else, so, I guess I'll just tell you now. Willa's pregnant. I'm gonna be a dad."

Gideon smiled and moved into the embrace his son offered, "That's really great, son. I'm so pleased for you both."

"Are you sure you're okay, Dad? You seem a little off."

"Not at all," Gideon put an arm around his son's shoulder, "I'm great. Now."

"Dad," Steven smiled, but there was determination in his eyes, "You don't have to be a profiler to know you're lying."

"There is something," Gideon finally assented, "But, I'll tell you later. Right now is for you. Take me inside so I can congratulate Willa."

"Okay. If you say so. We were kind of hoping that you and mom would . . ."

Gideon kept his arm around his son's shoulders and simply basked in being in his company as they walked into the house and Steven just rambled on, every inch the proud papa. His thoughts were slow and easy, calm. Tomorrow was soon enough to worry about everything. Tonight he had his son and his daughter-in-law. And he was going to be a grandfather. With death comes life, he thought, just as he kissed his daughter and hugged her close, congratulating her like he said he would. He even got a small smile from Elaine, sitting across the room. And it was enough. For now, it was enough.


	7. Chapter 7

All Previous Disclaimers Apply. I do not own the song "Perhaps Love." No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from the use of the lyrics.

Author's Note: Kudos to anyone who can tell me who originally wrote and performed the song "Perhaps Love." (Used at the end of the chapter.) As always, please be civil if you feel the need to flame. Please review if you have a few moments. It is always very much appreciated. Thanks so much!

"Emily, are you sure you're okay? You sound really wack."

"Really . . . wack?" Emily Prentiss almost smiled as she cocked her head and held the phone between her ear and shoulder so that she could slice a carrot to put in her dinner salad.

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up. I teach art, not English. You pick these things up working with kids all the time. But, seriously, Ems, you don't sound good. Rachael, stop hitting your brother! Tyler, stop sticking your tongue out at your sister! Now, please, be quiet for ten minutes, I'm on the phone with Auntie Emily. What . . . No, you can't tell her about your scab, Ty."

Emily couldn't help the half smile as she listened to her best friend, Carolina, rambling over the telephone. She had met Carolina the first day of her first year at Yale. They had been assigned as roommates even though they had almost nothing in common. Emily came from a wealthy, privileged background, and even though she did deserve to be there, she had worked her ass off to be there, there had never been any concern as to how she was going to get there. Caro, too, had worked her ass off to get to Yale, but she and her parents had stressed for months how they were going to get her there. They were good, honest, hardworking people, they just didn't make enough to help Caro out, no matter how proud they were of her. So, Caro had applied for all of the scholarships, grants, and loans that she could. The first day they met, Caro had hugged Emily close, despite how stiff she remained, and told her that they were going to be best friends. Emily had been terrified.

But, she had been right. They had spent four years as roommates. They complimented each other. She needed things ordered, Caro needed controlled chaos. She never did anything without thinking it through, sometimes for hours, Caro never planned anything. Most people found her cold while no one could say that Caro was anything less than open and bubbly. But, somehow, they helped each other to be what neither of them had ever thought they could be. With Caro, Emily knew she could be fun-loving, carefree, and wonderfully silly. With Emily, Carolina knew that she could be serious, studious, and otherwise a little stiff. They were never more themselves than when they were with each other. So, it was no surprise to Emily when, just after graduating with a degree in advanced chemistry, Caro had gone back to school again to get a teaching license so that she could teach high school art. It was expected when Caro flew out to celebrate Emily's acceptance into the FBI with her. Just as it was expected when Emily flew out twice to be with Caro, once for her wedding, the other to stay with her while she got her feet back under her after the divorce. They had spent a great night getting drunk on wine and bashing men, Joshua in particular, then a horrible morning bemoaning the fact that neither of them were in college anymore and should have remembered it.

Caro was always the first person Emily called when something happened, good or bad. Caro did the same with her. It was a comfort, really, just to hear her voice. Emily could picture the scene perfectly. Caro would be in the kitchen, her feet bare, probably in a tank top and jeans, her beautiful, black, naturally tightly curled hair pulled back while still managing to explode around her face, a fact Emily had always envied. Rachael and Ty would be sitting at the bar, waiting for dinner. Rach would be writing in her little journal. Ty would be playing with his cars, such a little man's man. Caro would be making dinner. It was another comfort that even though they were so far away- Caro and her kids lived in Florida- they could be doing the exact same thing.

"Em?"

Emily snapped out of her daydreaming at Caro's concerned tone, "I'm here. Sorry. I spaced for a minute."

"See, that's a sure sign right there that something's up. You never lose your concentration, Em, not over the phone. So, spill. What's wrong? You know you can't keep it from me. I'll get it out of you."

"Caro . . ."

"Fine. I'll just have to guess. Yes or no, okay?"

Emily sighed, but knew that she couldn't avoid it. Yes or no was a game she and Caro had played since their freshman year when they didn't want to tell each other something out right. They only played the game when it was important. They could refuse the game if it was really nothing very detrimental. But, she knew that what she was keeping to herself was important, so there was no getting out of it, "Okay."

"You've been getting along really well with the team for over a year, right?"

"Yes."

"So, it's nothing with the team?"

"Yes and no."

"It's something with the team, but not directly your problem?"

She said, "Yes." She thought: Damn. Carolina was just too insightful and knew her too well.

"Morgan or Garcia?"

"No."

"Hotch or Gideon?"

"No, Carolina."

"JJ or Reid?"

"Yes."

"JJ?"

"No."

"Reid?"

"Yes."

She heard the gasp on the other side of the line and winced. She knew what question was coming next. It was the question that always came next when it came to Reid. "He's not using again?" There was nothing they kept from each other.

"No." She could hear the pain in her own voice, feel it starting in her chest again, and set down her knife. She moved back so that she could sit on the floor. She was going to cry again, she knew it. She wished that Caro could be here with her right now.

"But it's something medical?"

"Yes," her voice was barely a whisper.

"Okay, babe, game over. What is it?"

"He's got a tumor, Caro."

"Okay," Caro was trying to keep her voice level, Emily could tell. It was one of the aspects Emily most loved about Caro. She was so very empathetic. She would hurt if she knew Emily was hurting. And Emily had told her so much about her team over the past couple of years that she almost felt as if she knew them as well. So, she would hurt for Reid, too, "Well, there are treatments. Catching it early is always a good thing. What's Reid going to do?"

"Nothing."

"What? I . . . I don't understand, Ems."

"It's a brain tumor, Caro. I don't really remember all of the details, but it's too close to his brain stem and they can't really do anything. Chemo won't do anything . . . and . . ."

"Jesus," Caro murmured, as always, effectively saying what Emily felt, "Okay. How long?"

"Not sure. He . . . just wants to go on like normal until he can't anymore. He asked us to try to forget that he told us today. How am I supposed to do that, Caro?" There were tears in her eyes, burning, but they couldn't seem to fall.

"I . . . Ems, I don't . . . I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I just . . . it hurts, you know? Like something deep in my chest. And I can't breathe. And you expect it to go away, but it never does. He's so young, Caro. And so innocent. Why does stuff like this happen to people like him? And in the field, too. Bad things happen to such good people. It doesn't make any sense. I just don't understand. And you know how much I hate not to understand."

"Yeah, I know. But, you gotta be strong, sweetie. Reid needs you. And all those people you help. You get the bad men off the streets, sweetheart. Just keep telling yourself that. Do you want me to fly out? I have some vacation time. And Mama can watch the kids for a few days. I can be there tomorrow."

"No," Emily felt the first tear slip down her cheek, "No, Caro. Maybe . . . after . . ." Neither of them wanted to say after what.

"Okay," Caro whispered, then really got into her element as a mother and as Emily's best friend, "Now, go get in bed. I know you. Your head hurts. You're not hungry. And you're not gonna let yourself cry nearly enough. So, put the phone on speaker next to your pillow. I'll sing you to sleep."

Caro only sang her to sleep when she knew she really needed it. Emily was grateful. It always amazed her that despite her so very formal upbringing, she had managed to build herself a new family that meant everything in her new team and in Caro and her kids. Her body felt sore, stiff, from too much stress today, as she stood, turned off the oven and the kitchen light and made her way to her bedroom. She stripped down to her underwear, a little blinded by tears, her head hurting horribly from those she hadn't and wouldn't shed, and lay in the bed.

"Say goodnight to Auntie Emily, babies." She was everlastingly grateful Caro put the kids on the phone. There was nothing like a child's innocent love to make anyone feel just a little better.

"Goodnight, Aunt Emily. Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, Rach. Thank you, sweetheart."

"I love you, Aunt Em."

"I love you, too, Ty."

"Ready, sweetie?"

"Yeah. Hey, Caro?"

"What is it, sweetie?"

"Thank you. I love you, despite the fact you're a crazy bohemian." She murmured the familiar, corny phrase as she put the phone next to her pillow.

"I love you, too, despite the fact you're an uptight suit. And you're welcome. I'll hang up when I know you're sleeping. And I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay." She closed her eyes, a few more tears leaking out, and just caught the first few words of Caro's song before her exhausted mind shut down completely in a deep dreamless sleep.

_Perhaps love is like a resting place, a shelter from the storm._

_It exists to give you comfort. It is there to keep you warm._

_And in those times of trouble, when you are most alone_

_The memory of love will bring you home._


	8. Chapter 8

All Previous Disclaimers Apply.

Author's Note: Thank you very much to criminally charmed who knew that John Denver originally wrote and performed "Perhaps Love." It is one of my favorite tunes and I'm always sad when I mention it that more people don't know it. Eventually all of the lyrics will be used in this fic and I hope they might interest some other readers enough to listen to the song. It really is beautiful. Now that that has been said . . . as always, please be civil if you wish to flame and please, if you have a moment take the time to review. I refuse to demand that people review for me to post the next chapter, but reviews are always very much appreciated.

It shouldn't be this uncomfortable. Reid looked around the silent table at the people he considered to be his family and let out a nearly imperceptible sigh. This morning had been exactly what he had expected, but had hoped wouldn't happen. They were all awkward around him, even Hotch and Gideon. They acted as if they had to walk on eggshells, everyone was watching what they were saying, no one was making jokes, and so far this morning no one had touched him at all. It was something he had never really recognized until they stopped doing it. The touches weren't really a big thing, just a hand to an elbow as they spoke in the kitchenette, a slap on the back as a greeting, or a hand to a shoulder when he had said something that they found particularly entertaining. But, this morning there was nothing. It was as if they were afraid he would shatter like glass. He had asked them to try to forget what he had told them yesterday because he didn't want this to happen. He hadn't wanted anything to change until it had to, but he hadn't wanted to hide anything from them at all, either. Even JJ had been avoiding him. And what the hell was that about? She was supposed to be his best friend, wasn't she?

So now they sat around the round table, quietly looking over the files that JJ had given them before she made her presentation about their newest case. The tension was so palpable you could almost touch it. It certainly felt like it was weighing everything down. God, he really didn't want the rest of his short life to be like this. The depression and the quiet and the discomfort. He didn't think he could stand it for more than another five minutes without going insane. And wouldn't that be fun? For him to be insane and dying? Well, that might just be enough to make the others go a little bit crazy. Then, they could all have chess and checker tournaments in the common room of some sanitarium together. The image was sickly humorous enough that he couldn't suppress the chuckle that quickly became a little bit of a hysterical laugh as he pressed the file closer to his face in an attempt to mask it.

"Something funny, Reid?" Hotch asked, looking up from his own copy of the files.

"Not really," Reid couldn't help it and began to laugh again. He was well aware that it was a purely psychological defense mechanism. He laughed so that he wouldn't cry, but knowing that simply made him laugh all the harder, "It's just that . . . you're all acting like someone's dying!" He couldn't help it. The laughter turned more than a little hysterical. Gideon put a hand to his shoulder and it was such a relief that someone was touching him that he just continued to laugh.

"Reid, man, not funny." Morgan addressed him for the first time all morning, "You . . ."

"No," As suddenly as it had started, the laughter drained out of him, to be replaced instead with a deep, simmering anger. Well, it was a more constructive emotion at the moment, anyway. Even he was surprised at the strength of his voice. "I asked you all to try to forget what I told you exactly to avoid this scenario. I don't want things to be strange until they have to be. I'm not dying yet. Not until I can't leave a hospital bed. I'm willing to give you all the rest of today and tonight to work through this so that we can move on, but I won't be able to live like this forever. I expect that by tomorrow you will have all gotten over it. Now, while you're all sufficiently shocked with what I've just said- and yes, Morgan, I did just give everyone something close to an order- I'm going to get a cup of coffee and have myself a little bit of a visit with Garcia to make sure she knows what I've just told all of you."

"He . . ." Emily stuttered as Reid swept out of the room, anger obvious on his face, "He just . . . wow."

"He's not going to make this easy on any of us, is he?" Morgan questioned, "No feeling sorry for him, or ourselves. No pity. I should have listened to her."

"Who?" Hotch asked.

"Garcia." Morgan sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, "She told me that I shouldn't mourn before I had something to mourn about. Seems Reid's not going to let us either."

"So, she's going to be completely normal with him?" JJ questioned.

"If I know my girl like I think I do," Morgan shrugged.

"Good," Gideon turned back to his files, "She'll be able to calm him down. Now, JJ, start with your presentation. Reid can catch up."

"You don't want to wait?" JJ asked, motioning to her materials a little nervously.

"Would we wait if he were simply late?" Hotch asked, catching on, "He wants things to be like normal, things are going to be like normal. Go on, JJ."

"Okay," JJ turned and hit the power button on the remote. They all turned to the screen and tried to pay complete attention, just like normal, but it didn't escape anyone's notice that they were all looking at Reid's empty chair more often than not during the presentation, wondering what it would be like when it was empty for good.

"This is Jess Langdon. Found four days ago in Colorado Springs, CO. Fifth in a series of like murders in and around Southeastern Colorado in the past four months . . ."

"Hey, baby doll, what's up?" Garcia kept her voice level, calm, and, she hoped, completely normal as Reid came right into her office, slammed the door and nearly threw himself into his habitual chair against the wall, "Bad morning?"

"I don't want to talk about it." He was being surly. Garcia's eyebrow went up and she had to mask the smile that threatened to spread across her face. He could be so cute sometimes. Surly was not one of the attitudes he took often, so when he did it was always fun to see. It was a bit like a little boy pouting because his best friend has gone to play with little Johnny down the road instead of staying to play with him. The mood wouldn't last long, she knew. His moods never did, but still, she felt it her duty to pull him out of it as soon as possible.

"And now you're lying. You really shouldn't, sweet cheeks, it's not becoming. So," she spun around in her chair to face him completely, "Tell Mama what's wrong."

"It's just . . . they're all doing exactly what I didn't want them to do, Garcia. I told everyone about the tumor early yesterday so that we could move past it as soon as possible. I didn't want it to change anything until it had to. And now . . . they act like I'm going to break! I don't need to think about this every minute of every day until . . ."

"Baby, just slow down for a minute," she rolled her chair closer and put a hand to his, where it rested gripping his chair arm so hard his knuckles were almost white. He was seriously upset, she realized for the first time. She should have seen it before. "Just try to take this from their point of view for a moment. You've had all weekend to process. You just told them yesterday. They all love you. They're trying to accept, they're trying to do as you ask, you just need to be a little bit more understanding and give them some more time."

"More time?" Reid scoffed, still a little angry, though he was coming down off of it rather quickly, "Time is one thing I'm not sure I have a lot of, Garcia."

"I understand, babe, but you have to make allowances."

"You seem to have accepted it just fine."

"Yeah, but I know what it's like to regret spending the last weeks of someone's life sad all the time when it should be the best time they've ever had."

"Who?" He could see the lasting regret in her eyes even as she could see that he needed to hear the story, to reassure him that she wouldn't let it happen again. To let him know that it wouldn't happen with him. She wouldn't let it.

"My half brother was sixteen when he was diagnosed with Leukemia. He was always a fighter. He fought hard for a year and a half. It was difficult on him because he was so used to being so active. He played football, baseball, ran track. He was one of those all around sports kids. You know, the kind most people hate. But, it was impossible to hate Alexander. He was sweet, and kind. I know we tend to get very sentimental about people who have passed on and we forget that they had faults. Alexander did have his faults. He could be pig-headed and so very obnoxious, but not when it counted," Reid turned his hand over so that she could take it in her own. There were tears in her eyes, but he had a feeling that she wouldn't let them fall.

"I don't think it's forgetting someone had faults," he said quietly, "I think it's choosing to remember what we loved most about them. What happened?"

"All the weakness and the bed rest made him so angry and so depressed, but he wouldn't give up. We were all there for the chemo, then the radiation treatment. Eight tense months later we got the good news. He'd battled it back. He was going to be okay." She paused, but didn't look away from him.

"But, he wasn't?" He didn't want to ask the question, but he could tell that she would need the prompting to continue. She gave him a sad, sweet smile.

"He was in remission for a year, seven months, and nine days. Then it came back, more powerful than ever. We did the rounds again, the treatments, and in the end he stopped responding. He told us that he was ready to just put it in God's hands. So, we let him. But . . ." She paused for a moment when her voice broke and tears in her eyes finally started to fall. It would never stop hurting. She had accepted it long ago, "The doctors told us that he had a good chance at a year, a year and a half of decent health. Alexander tried to tell us that he wanted to live for as long as he could, but we couldn't get past the fact that he was going to die. Our mom tried to pull us out of it, too, telling us all it was useless to mourn when he was right here still. But, we didn't listen. We went around crying all the time, short with each other, we could barely look at him we were so depressed at the thought of losing him." She paused again and reached for a tissue. She wiped her eyes and looked down. Even though she held fast to Reid's hand, she didn't look back up.

"He died five months later. Just gave up. I've always believed it was partly our fault. Like we didn't allow him to live because we didn't feel like we could live without him. After . . . after he was gone the only thing I could think was even during chemo and radiation when he was so sick he could barely move, he had been so full of life. And we had robbed him of it."

"Garcia . . ." There was something rising in him, something that he didn't want to face.

"No, baby. Let me finish, okay?" She looked up at him momentarily, then back down at her brightly painted nails.

"Okay," he said quietly and nodded, trying to swallow around the tightness in his throat.

"So, after the funeral and all the condolences from neighbors and friends and roommates reminding me of just how full of life Alexander had been, I told myself that I would live every day to the fullest for him because he hadn't and couldn't. And now, baby, I'm gonna do the same for you. I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. If I have anything to say about it, you're not gonna regret a thing and you're going to be with us for as long as possible. I'm sure if you just give them a little more time the others will come to the same conclusion."

There was silence for a few seconds until it was too much for him to bear, "Garcia . . ."

She looked up when she heard the crushing pain in his voice, only to see tears rolling down his cheeks as well, though she knew it wasn't from her story. She was wondering when this would happen. She was glad it was sooner, rather than later, and that he trusted her enough to do it with her, though she wondered in a far corner of her mind why he hadn't done it with JJ instead, "Oh, baby, come here." She pulled him into her arms, forcefully, making them both slip out of their chairs until they were kneeling on the floor together, arms wrapped around each other.

"Garcia . . ." Her name was more of a plea. Yes, she mused, holding him closer, he had worked through the stages of acceptance readily. He had accepted it, but he hadn't mourned it yet. As much as he had demanded that they all forget what he had told them, she had known that even he wouldn't be able to do it without giving himself a mourning period. His would be shorter than others, his mind was so organized, but he still needed one. Alexander had been so determined that his had been short, too. She'd been there for that, too. That was it. She felt him tuck his face into her neck and couldn't help the fact that her own sobs intensified. He was doing this with her because he saw her as a sister. There were some things you just couldn't share with friends. She felt the same, she realized, holding onto him as he clung to her. Reid was more than friend. They had been through so much, they had been so casual with each other, always comfortable with each other because they each recognized something in the other that they needed. Reid needed family. She needed someone to love and protect the same way she had loved and protected Alexander. She was losing another brother, but this time she wouldn't screw it up.

"Hold onto me, baby. Just hold onto me. I'm here. Let it all out. Come on. Let it out, baby." She wasn't really aware of her words as she held him and rocked. They were truly meaningless, comfort words, but she knew that he would just need to hear her voice, so she didn't stop as she rocked his trembling form.

"I'm dying, Pen!"

"I know, honey bear."

"Why me? Haven't I been through enough?"

"Baby . . ."

"It's not fair! It's not fair!"

"Oh, Reid. I know its not, sweetie. I know."

She held him as his words became great, wracking sobs. When he was trembling so hard it seemed as if it would break his fragile frame in two she only held him tighter. Soon enough, as she knew was bound to happen, the sobs began to slow. Still she rocked. She rocked them both until all cries had turned to sniffles and they were beginning to realize they were over warm and sweaty in each others arms. But, there was none of the awkwardness she'd feared as he pulled away and reached his long arms out for the tissue box on her desk. They began to laugh as they tried to mop themselves up with the fragile things.

"Now you've gone and made me ruin my make-up," she sighed, pulling a compact out of her purse and checking out the damage.

"Thanks, Penelope, for . . . uh . . . letting me . . . well . . ."

"Thank you, Reid," she put a hand to his cheek, "For trusting me enough to let me."

"I guess I better get back."

"Yeah, I guess you better. Dying is no excuse for not doing your job, buddy." She was relived that they could both laugh at the joke, "But, you might want to splash some water on your face first. You're a mess."

"Look who's talking!"

"Yeah, but, I can cover it all up with new make-up. Last time I checked, you just weren't that femme."

He looked taken aback for a moment and she knew why. She smiled when he managed to get out, "You knew?"

"Honey, it's not that hard to figure out. But, don't worry. I won't tell anyone, though I think you should."

"I'll take it under serious consideration."

He smiled that shy smile she had come to know and love as they stood and she opened the door to let him out.

"Good. Now, go wash your face and get back to work!"

Hotch chose not to mention anything, chose not to see the tear tracks as he approached Reid just as Garcia was closing her office door again. It was hard for him, but he chose to do as Reid asked, "Wheels up in thirty," he commented.

"Where are we going?" Reid asked.

"Colorado," he answered, and because he couldn't completely forget, he gave Reid's shoulder a squeeze as he passed, "And, Reid?"

"Yes?"

"Don't miss presentation again."

Then, Reid smiled and Hotch knew it had been the right thing to say.

"Yes, sir."


	9. Chapter 9

All Previous Disclaimers Apply.

**Author's Note: Well, I've given warnings before, and in this chapter one of them comes true. So, for a final time, to cover all bases . . . this story is ReidOC SLASH. While it is not th****e most important element of the**** story, it is th****e most important element of the**** chapter. (The chapter contains the history of Reid's relationship with another man.) If you do not like slash, I would suggest that you not continue. I make it a point not to delete reviews even if I am not fond of them, but if I am flamed on account of the homosexual content of this story after my numerous warnings I **_**will**_** delete the review. As always, thank you to those who have and who continue to stick by this story. If anyone should feel the need to flame, please be civil about it. Thanks so much!**

"You shouldn't keep so many secrets, you know. They tear you apart eventually, no matter how strong you think you are."

Reid sighed heavily as he got off of the bus, immediately turning in the direction of his apartment building. Everyone had offered to give him a ride home when they got back from Colorado. They all said it was too late and it had been a tough case, so he should just hitch with one of them instead of putting up with the hassle of taking the bus and then walking. He knew that in reality they were just worried that something would happen to him –what, he had no idea- but he was so grateful that they had tried to mask it with logic that it didn't bug him nearly so much. He had wanted to take the bus. No one tried to make him talk on the bus. And he had wanted to walk the few blocks to his apartment. It gave him time to think. So, he'd finished his reports, said goodnight to everyone, and gotten on the bus a block and a half from the office, as he always did.

Those few words from one little girl continued to bug him as they had ever since she'd pulled him aside after her interview to utter them. He'd tried to get her to elaborate, trying to figure out what she had meant, how she had known him so well, but all she had done was tilt her head to the side, smile, and walk away. Gideon had asked him what was wrong not a minute later, but he had just told him that it was nothing. The little girl . . . well, she wasn't so little, he mused. She was a senior in high school, seventeen years old. But, she had seemed much younger with her petite stature, sweet voice, and wide eyes. She had shaken him. They had questioned her because she was marked as friends with all of the young men killed, but she hadn't had anything useful to add to their investigation despite being described as "kind of weird," "sweet tempered, but very strange," and "someone to watch" by others they had interviewed. Hotch had just settled on the explanation that she was simply one of those people no one ever really understood. They seemed to know more that they should about the world and that was why people feared and could not understand them.

Reid didn't fear her. He definitely didn't understand her, but he didn't fear her. She had known that he was keeping secrets and that they were tearing him up inside. She had known after only speaking to him personally for five minutes and then seeing him again for less that a minute outside of her interviewing room. Truthfully, he had been a little relieved to get away from her but, he wouldn't have said no if she had asked him to speak with her more or stay in touch. It was a very strange experience all in all. Everything he had ever known had been so based in fact, in what he could see and feel and give explanation to, but recently his world was being upturned by things that had no logical explanation. A young girl telling him exactly what he needed to hear, the way he had felt an overwhelming urge to make a snow angel while they were still working the case.

It had been snowing, the case was at a stand-still despite their best efforts. They had been in the precinct's conference room for hours, pouring over everything they had again and again. Still, they had all felt that they were just beating their heads against a wall. They were all tired and nothing was coming together and that just made them even more cranky with each other. Then, he had seen the snow through the window and an overwhelming urge had hit him. He had never made a snow angel before. So, without a word he had pulled on his jacket, walked outside and collapsed in the snow, moving his arms and legs in wide arcs to get the desired shape. The others had followed him out, Morgan had asked if he was crazy as he was helping him up, then sputtered in disbelief as JJ hit him square in the face with a wet snowball. Ten minutes later they were all relaxed and wet to the bone. Then, Gideon had suddenly rushed back inside to look at the files one more time. An hour later they'd made an arrest. Two hours later they had their confession. Two hours and forty-five minutes later they were on the way home. And Reid could not get what the young girl had said off of his mind.

He supposed the intuitive young woman would probably say that he had felt such an urge exactly so they could all relax and Gideon could solve the case. It sounded an awful lot like fate to him, or pre-destiny, and he wasn't sure that he believed in either. It didn't change the fact, though, that he had an important phone call to make tonight. Get at least one secret off of his chest. He sighed again opened the door to his complex, aiming for the stairs, but deciding on the elevator when a wave of dizziness hit him. He couldn't be sure, at the moment, if it was due to hunger, fatigue, or the tumor in his head, so he decided just to take care of all three. Eat something, take his medication, and then go to bed. After the phone call. The phone call was important.

The apartment was dark when he walked in, but he didn't bother with the lights as he dropped his bag next to the door and made a bee-line for the kitchen. He had lived in the space long enough to know where everything was without the aid of a light. He was already in the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of milk before it registered that there had been another bag next to the door. A bag that was used as a carry on when travelling by plane. A bag that Lance used as a carry on when travelling by plane. He almost slammed the carton and the glass on the counter in his excitement. Then, he turned. His knees went a little shaky and he had to reach behind him to hold on to something to make sure he didn't disgrace himself by simply falling over in shock.

In the doorway stood the most wonderful sight he had seen in a good six months. Lancelot Gregory Archer was everything his fair cousin, Lila, was not. Olive skinned, dark haired, and grey eyed. He stood a good five inches above Reid's own six foot one height and he was perfect in almost every way Reid could fathom. He was standing exactly as he'd been standing the first time they'd met, leaning against the door frame, hands in his pockets and a smile that reached all the way to his eyes on his face. For a moment, Reid couldn't speak, he could only remember.

Almost exactly two years ago to the day, Lila had called Reid and asked him if he wanted to be her date for a big shot Broadway musical preview that her favorite cousin had a small, but admirable, part in. He had immediately said yes, still wondering what exactly it was between them that had been so unique and special during the short time they had spent together. He had tried to keep it a secret for a long as possible, but eventually it had gotten back to the team that he had a date with Lila Archer, Hollywood starlet extraordinaire. He had endured a week and a half of intense teasing before the big night. He'd even bought a new suit for the occasion. It was still the one thing in his closet that fit him the best. The evening had been good, pleasant. Dinner before the show had been comfortable, like seeing a very good friend again after a long time. He and Lila had laughed and joked as if there had never been any odd romantic tension between them in the first place. They'd held hands, and it was comfortable as well. He wondered later if perhaps the very fact that they were so comfortable, that he wasn't nervous at all should have tipped him off to the fact that he and Lila were not meant to be anything more than friends. The show had been less than stunning, a good attempt, but Reid hadn't been all that impressed. Lila's cousin, Lance, however, had been incredible, stealing the show with a less than dynamic part simply because he was as good as he was. Reid had found he hadn't been able to take his eyes off of him.

After the show, Lila had taken him backstage, telling him that they were going to go out with her cousin as a sort of celebration that he had finally made it to the Broadway stages. He had been trying ever since he had dropped out of high school at sixteen, she had explained. They had often shared their dreams of fame and glory when they were younger, supporting each other in a family that considered the arts and Hollywood two very big wastes of time. Funny, she had laughed, how the two "black sheep" of the family were doing all they had said they would do and more just because they wouldn't give in and become what the family wanted them to be. A doctor for Lance, a teacher for her. She had admitted to him in a giggle that she had been more than a little in puppy love with Lance when they were young, eleven and fourteen years old, but that he had crushed her poor little heart when he revealed to her that he thought he might be gay. She had mourned for two days, then gotten a crush on Billy Thompson, who had given her her first kiss a month and a half later. And so, Lance had become her best friend. Despite being on opposite coasts for so long, they remained close and each other's biggest fans.

Reid had been amazed to find that he was nervous around Lance. He was stuttering, and didn't know what to do with his hands and rubbing sweaty palms sporadically on his pants from the moment Lila introduced them, just outside the dressing room he shared with other named secondary characters. He also found that he was smiling more than he had the entire evening. For Lance's part, he had seemed cool and collected until they had shaken hands, a little late into the conversation. Then, Lance had gotten a strange look on his face, blushed, and made an excuse to duck back in the dressing room, saying he would meet them in the back. Reid had not been able to stop looking at his hand, still warm from the clasp, as Lila led him outside and to an empty doorway.

"Okay," she had been smiling, "What the hell was that, Spencer?"

"What are you talking about?" he had asked, knowing perfectly well what she meant. She indulged him anyway.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that there's more sexual tension between you and my cousin in five minutes than there has been between you and me this entire night! Why didn't you just tell me that you're gay?"

The word had pulled him out of his little haze, "I'm not gay!"

"No? You could have fooled me."

"But, in your pool . . ."

"Okay, so you're bi. But, Spencer, you can't deny what just happened in there!"

"Sure I can."

And he'd meant it. He'd never before in his life been physically attracted to another man. Then again, if he was being fair, he'd never been truly physically attracted to a woman in his life, either. He hadn't really seen JJ as a potential relationship until Gideon had set up the date between them. The date had ended in them deciding to simply be friends, starting their close, sibling-like, relationship. He hadn't even really found Lila all that stimulating until she had pulled him into her pool and all of the sudden her mouth was on his and her body was so close. She had been his first kiss. The fact that he was so young in both college and high school had really left him behind in some areas of development. Then, he had joined the FBI straight away after earning his third doctorate and had felt that there were better things to occupy his mind than relationships. So, really when he took time to think about it, how could he know where his sexual preference lay? But, he had chosen not to think about it and had stayed as far away from Lance as he could for the rest of the evening, relieved when some more people from the show had come out with them.

Then, a week later Lila had sprung a trap on him. She invited him to dinner before she went back to California and he had accepted, glad to get another chance to see her. She was fun to be around and didn't make him nervous. Not many people could do that. So, he'd taken the train to New York once again and met her at a posh little restaurant she had decided on. They had walked inside together and Reid had spotted Lance, sitting at a table set for two.

"Oops," Lila had giggled, "You know what? I forgot my plane takes off in a couple of hours. I better get going. But, you two don't ruin your night on my account. Have fun!" Then, Hurricane Lila had been gone. Reid had started to make excuses to leave when Lance had looked up at him, a smile on his face.

"I know Lila's about as tactful as an elephant in a china shop, but there's no reason for you to run off so quickly when you came all this way. Why don't you sit down? We'll just eat, I promise."

He hadn't understood at the time what had compelled him, but he had taken the seat, and had dinner with Lance. Soon he had forgotten his discomfort and was simply enjoying the other man's company. He was witty and intelligent, and he didn't seem to mind Reid's awkwardness at all. In fact, he seemed genuinely interested in the random facts Reid had a tendency to spout off when something caught his attention. Before he knew what was happening, four hours had gone by and the restaurant was closing. So, they'd walked out and Lance had hailed him a cab. It was the one and only time Reid had ever known him to be at a loss for words.

"I know I said we'd only eat, but I'd never be able to live with myself if I didn't at least . . . I mean . . . You . . . You're so . . . Fuck it." And Lance had kissed him. It had been nothing like when Lila had kissed him. That had been all shock and trying to do what he thought was right to respond. When Lance kissed him he didn't have to think, he just responded. His hands curled into Lance's jacket and he didn't feel awkward at all when Lance pulled him closer. When they pulled away he'd gotten into the cab as quickly as he could, confused and a little scared. But, his fear hadn't stopped him from saying yes when Lance had called a couple of days later and asked if he could see him again. Soon.

Six months later Lance had moved in with him. JJ had found out about him not long after that. She had had a key to his place ever since they had helped him get clean but hadn't had cause to use it. When she had come over one day and he hadn't answered the door she had been worried and had let herself in only to find Lance and him in the bedroom, still fully clothed, but well on their way to not being so anymore. She had been shocked and yet somehow not surprised and had offered to take them to dinner, so that she could grill Lance to her heart's content. At the end of the night she had decided that she liked him and that he was good for her Spence. At Reid's insistence she agreed not to mention anything unless she was asked directly. But, no one ever asked and so she never mentioned anything.

For almost a year Lance and Reid lived together happily, Lance taking the commuter flight to and from the city for work. He was cast in a lead in an established show after the new show had flopped but the critics loved his performance and so didn't worry about the money two flights a day took up. Every other weekend Reid would take the train up to New York to see the show and then they would go out. He never tired of watching Lance perform. Lance was so completely different from anyone else he had ever known. He had never known a person so able to put so much of themselves on the line every night for a whole audience of people to see. The thought terrified Reid, but Lance handled it with grace. He was never more comfortable than when he was on stage. He was able to create a new world for people and he knew it. Reid could never quite understand how such a passionate, gorgeous, dynamic individual could love him. He had told Lance so more than once. But, Lance only laughed.

"You know, for being a genius you aren't so smart sometimes. It's me who should be wondering what the hell you're still doing with me." It was always his response.

Then, six months ago, Lance had been offered a role in another new musical. This time it was a staring role. Reid had told him to take it. It would be hard work, but from the sounds of it the musical was going to be incredible. Lance deserved this chance. It was the chance of a lifetime and Reid wasn't going to watch him throw it away just because they'd be spending a little less time together. Then, Lance had dropped the bomb on him. The show was getting it's start in London to see if it was worthy to by moved to a Broadway stage. All of the work would be done in London. They wouldn't just be spending less time together if he took the role. They would be apart for months. They had discussed it for hours, days, and in the end Reid had told him to go. And Lance had told him he would go only on one condition. Reid had to agree to be his forever. They had never really put a label on their relationship, but he wanted one now. He wanted Reid to be his partner for life. Reid had agreed. The commitment was only known to one another, something they sealed with a kiss while they were sitting on the couch together, but it was enough that they knew what they were to each other.

They spoke on the phone every night. Reid had even flown out to London for a week during a vacation. But, the time hadn't been enough. And it hurt more than he could say to have Lance so far away from him. It had been hardest to hide how down he was from the rest of the team. He could pretend he was okay so long as no one was asking him every day if he was okay. JJ thought he was trying to hide it. Reid knew it was just the only way he would survive. It had been a major point of dispute for them before the headaches started and everyone began treating him as if he were a china doll. JJ had been so worried that he was using again, even though she wouldn't admit it, that she had forgotten to argue with him over Lance. And then, the doctor had told him he was dying. It had pushed the issue back for another week until JJ had asked if he had told Lance yet. He had known it would be hardest to tell the man he loved, but he didn't want to do it over the phone, so he had waited. JJ had pestered him that he needed to tell Lance as soon as possible and let him make the decision to come home. She had no doubts that Lance would rush home to be with Reid as soon as he heard. Reid was just glad she had stopped pestering him about coming out of the closet, even as he fretted over telling Lance. He had finally worked himself up to doing it tonight. But, now Lance was here. Lance was finally home.

And so Reid stated the obvious, "You're home."

"Yeah." Lance's deep voice was smooth.

"How?" It was the only question he could think to ask.

"Show's moving to Broadway. We open in four months. I came home soon as we got the word. Rest of the cast will be here within the week. I just figured, better get home quick. You know, so I could have a few days with you before we start up again." It was never more than he had to say. His words were always condensed. It was another something Reid loved about him, even if their conversations did tend to get a little one-sided at times.

"But, the London show?"

"The last performance is tomorrow night. My understudy is building a shrine to me, I think." There was that smile again, and the dimple in the left cheek.

"You gave up the last performance, Lance?" He couldn't help the smile reflected on his own face and the shock in his voice. Lance had given up a final performance for him. Somehow it was unbearably romantic.

"Some things are more important, Spence. You just gonna stand there all night?"

And the spell was broken. In seconds they were in each other's arms. They kissed once, twice. Chaste kisses. Then, they simply held each other, rocking slowly. It was enough simply to be together. The time would come a little later when they wouldn't be able to get their hands off of each other. Six months ago that time would have come first. But, now their love was deeper than the physical and they had to satisfy their souls by taking each other in again first. It sounded so corny, even to him, but Lance always had this affect on him. Lance made him feel like there was more to him than simply analytical thought. God, he didn't want to ruin the moment. He didn't want to ruin this, the holding and the feeling content. He knew he was about to send it all crashing down around them and that he might regret it but, he knew that if he didn't say it now, he might not until much later. Much later might be anywhere from days to weeks much later before he'd work up the courage again. But, that wouldn't be fair to Lance. Not when time was now so short and precious. However, there was something else he had to tell Lance first.

"Lance," he whispered against the cool cotton of Lance's tee shirt, "I love you."

"I love you, too, babe. I've missed you so much." There was so much love and hope in Lance's voice that tears began and Reid couldn't do anything to stop them. He buried his head in Lance's chest and tried to control himself, but knew he had lost the battle when Lance said, "Spence, what's wrong? You're shaking. What is it, Spence?" There was worry in his voice now and Reid hated the fact that he was the one to put it there. He felt a hand lift his chin until he was looking straight into Lance's smoky eyes.

"Spence, you're scaring me. What's wrong?" Always honest. Lance was nothing if he wasn't completely honest

"Lance," he whispered, past the lump of emotion in his throat, "I have something to tell you."

**Author's Note: I was going to try for a shorter chapter this time around as per a reader's request, but it just didn't seem to work out. I apologize and will try to make chapters shorter in the future.**


	10. Chapter 10

All Previous Disclaimers Apply.

**Author's Note: Okay, this should be the last chapter where Reid's sexuality is the main point. Thanks for those who have stood by the story, even though slash is not your particular cup of tea. I apologize if this chapter gets OOC. The phone numbers included in this chapter are just me choosing random numbers and have nothing to do with anything. As always, please by civil if you feel you need to flame and please review if you have the time. Thanks for sticking with me for so long!**

Why?

It was the only word that Reid could think to ask as the telephone on the night stand began to rang, jerking him out of the pleasantly deep sleep he'd been in. As if his evening hadn't been hard enough already, now the telephone was ringing at –he half-opened his eyes to look at the clock- three forty-nine in the morning. He almost felt like crying and debated for a moment whether he wanted to pick up at all. It wasn't his cell phone, after all, but the house phone. Then, again, where was his cell phone? He held back a groan, not wanting to wake Lance, when he remembered that it was still in his bag, which was still sitting by the front door. He had almost worked himself up to grabbing it when Lance removed the arm that had been wrapped around his waist, assuming he was still asleep, and picked up the phone.

"Hello?" His voice was sleep-fogged and Reid felt the guilt grab him. Not only was Lance exhausted from the evening they'd just had together, but he had just gotten back from England and the time difference was probably killing him. Yet, he was the one to answer the phone. Reid rolled over and set a hand to his chest, looking at his lover as he rubbed his face and listened to the person on the other end of the line. A smile ghosted over his handsome features briefly as he ran a finger down Reid's cheek.

"Yeah, thanks, JJ. Yeah, it's good to be home. No, he must have left it in his bag. I kind of surprised him." Then, his voice got quiet and sad, "Yeah, he told me. I don't . . . I'm still trying to process a little, I think. I know." Reid could see that he was fighting back tears and linked fingers with his free hand, holding tight. "Just a second. It's JJ, babe."

Lance handed over the phone and laid back down even as Spence sat up. He didn't go back to sleep, didn't close his eyes again. He had waited until the end of these telephone calls for as long as he and Spence had been together. It wouldn't change now. He simply kept his hand linked with Spence's, placed his now free hand to his partner's back and listened as the man he loved quickly agreed to be at the office as soon as possible in that efficient, business-like tone that Lance had come to love so much. He didn't even say that he had to go in as he hung up the phone and looked down at Lance in the bed. He didn't have to say it. They both knew it already. He'd known what he was getting into when Spence had told him that he was an FBI agent. It didn't make it any easier, though. Especially now when all he wanted to do was forget what Spence had told him earlier, wrap him tightly in his arms, and never let go. He felt the emotion catch in his chest, making it hard to breathe, hard to swallow, and let go of Spence's hand, knowing that he wouldn't be able to unless he did it now. Spence smiled at him, leaned over, and placed a kiss to his temple, his jaw, his lips, then lay down for a moment and wrapped his arms around him.

"Don't say it's going to be okay, Spence. Don't even try. Just say you love me and you'll call whenever you guys get to where you're going," Lance tried not to cling as he wrapped his own arms around Spencer's thin form and pressed a kiss to the soft hair.

"I love you. I'll call when we land," Spencer intoned obediently, then looked into Lance's eyes, "I'm putting you on my contact list today. I want everyone to know about us."

Lance couldn't help the laugh that managed to make its way up from his belly, "Finally! You . . . you're finally gonna . . . It's about time . . ." He could feel the shift when the laughter went from good-natured to hysterical and then into tears. He couldn't stop it. What was more, he didn't think he wanted to. So he allowed it to happen, allowed himself to cling as he pressed his face into Spence's neck, and sobbed. How was he supposed to live without him when Spencer was what he lived for? How could God decide to take someone so beautiful out of the world? How could he let him go now when their time together had become so precious?

Reid rode the wave of Lance's emotions, biting back tears of his own. He had cried so much the past week and he was sure he would be crying a lot more in the near future. It was a little bit of a role reversal, since he was the one dying, but he had to be strong for Lance right now. Lance was an artist, an actor, his life was getting people to believe emotions that weren't his own, emotions he had to feel in a role that wasn't real, so his real emotions were always that much stronger. He'd been quiet, accepting, earlier in the evening, holding Reid tightly, asking him what they could do, what Reid wanted to do. He'd just stroked Reid's hair and whispered, "Okay," when Reid told him that he just wanted to live for as long as he could. Then, he'd said he loved him, taken him into their room, and they'd made love, never taking their eyes from each other's and tumbling off the edge together before falling asleep in each other's arms. Perhaps it was a good thing that they had another case so soon. Now Lance could work through all of his emotions, rage and blame included, and not feel guilty just because Reid was around. He would call Lance's best friend in New York, another performer, from the plane and have her come over. Lance would need someone, but it would have to be someone he trusted completely.

As soon as Lance's sobs turned to quiet sniffles, Reid kissed his forehead and pulled away. Lance didn't say anything as he dressed, but Reid could feel the steady, mournful gaze on his back as he pulled on a pair of loose jeans, went to the closet, and pulled out a striped button down that Lance had bought him months ago and he had never worn. He heard Lance chuckle when he didn't bother to tuck it in and rolled up the sleeves to the elbows.

"Now you get a little bit of fashion sense."

"Just for you," Reid chuckled back, before slipping into the bathroom, brushing his teeth and running a comb through his hair. When he got back out Lance was sitting on the corner of the bed, holding out his ready bag, freshly packed. Reid didn't even bother to check it, just threw the last of his stuff in and leaned over to kiss Lance a final time before leaving.

"We're going to be okay," he whispered, "I love you."

"Love you, too." Lance whispered back, smoothing Reid's collar because it was something to do with his hands, "Don't forget your coat and if you're coming out to your team do it with style."

"Oh? In what manner?"

"Put the picture of you and me I put in the bag on your desk before you leave. I add style to anything."

"That you do." It was so easy, so simple, for both of them to slip into their normal flirtatious banter.

"Now go," Reid was grateful for the attempted smile, "Before I strip you, toss you back on the bed, and have my wicked way with you."

"Promises, promises."

He couldn't help the smile as he left Lance getting comfortable in the bed again, but it fell when, as he was pulling on his coat, he heard the muffled sobs coming from the bedroom. Tears filled his own eyes. It took all of his strength not to go back to the bedroom and lay with Lance again. So, he steeled himself and walked out of the apartment, locking the door firmly behind him. Somehow he wasn't surprised when he saw JJ's SUV in front of the building and waiting when he got downstairs. They were both silent as he simply climbed in and buckled up. They were silent until he dug through his ready bag and pulled out the framed picture Lance had included in his things.

He smiled. It was one of his favorites. He and Lance were backstage after one of Lance's shows, surrounded by set pieces of the eighteen century. Lance had an arm around his waist and his head was resting on Lance's shoulder. They were both laughing. He couldn't remember the joke one of Lance's co-stars had said to make them laugh anymore, but it didn't matter. What mattered is that they both looked happy and from their body language you could tell that they were very much a couple in love. JJ glanced over at the picture and smiled.

"Where's that going?"

"On my desk. And Lance is going on my emergency contact form."

"Good," JJ's voice took on a lower, softer tone, "Speaking of Lance . . ." She let it trail and he picked it up again right away.

"We're going to be okay," he said for the second time since waking up.

"Good." She wasn't sure what else to say. They were silent for the rest of the ride. She took his hand when they were in the elevator and gave it an encouraging squeeze. He was a little nervous, so he squeezed back and held until the elevator doors opened. She gave him an encouraging smile, and then dropped his hand as they stepped out onto their floor and saw the rest of the team. Hotch and Gideon were in their offices with the doors and shades open. Emily, Morgan and Garcia were all at Morgan's desk, laughing at some joke or other. Reid started for his desk, stopped for a moment, considered, and then turned to head for Hotch's office.

"Reid," Hotch looked up from his paperwork only long enough to see who was at his office door, then back down. Even though his clothing was, as always, impeccable, he looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes. Then again, they probably all looked exhausted, Reid thought, rubbing sweaty palms on his pants nervously. Their last case had been completed not even twelve hours ago. He looked back up when Reid stepped inside the office and cleared his throat, "What can I do for you?"

"I . . . uh . . . I need to add someone to my emergency contact list. Needs to be put at the top of the list, actually. Soon as possible." He winced inwardly at how awkward he sounded even to himself.

"That's fine. Give me the information now and I'll take care of it along official lines as soon as we get back."

God, please don't let him be disgusted, he couldn't help the thought before clearing his throat again and starting, "Uh, right. The name is Lancelot Gregory Archer. Born January twenty-second nineteen-eighty-two. Cellular number: 638-719-5428. Home number is the 652-384-7651."

"384-76 . . . Reid, that's your home number." Hotch looked a little confused for a moment, then understanding dawned in his eyes.

Reid simply carried on, "Relation to agent: life partner."

It was hard. Harder than he thought it was going to be when Hotch just sat there, looking at him. He would not be ashamed of his relationship with Lance. He couldn't be. He loved Lance and if the others had a problem with it, it was just that. Their problem. He would quit the team and write papers for academic journals until his time was up if he had to. But, he would be miserable. He knew that without having to think about it. It was so hard because his team was his family, the only real family he'd ever known. Coming out to them was like coming out to his brothers and sisters. And this was the first test. The oldest brother, the brother he had the least in common with but whom he loved and respected so much it almost hurt. From Hotch he could get a gauge on how the others, and everyone's father figure, would react. The family scenario was the closest he could think of. But, he thought it fit. It would break his heart if they could accept everything about him but this. Then, again, Lance would never make him choose, so why should they? He resisted the urge to fist his hands in his hair in the frustration of his circling thoughts. Trying to hide his fear, he just gazed calmly back at Hotch.

They looked at each other for a moment, neither of them moving, Reid not even daring to breathe before Hotch nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting in what couldn't quite be called a smile though the soft acceptance reached his eyes, and looked back down at his paperwork again, "Okay. Round table room in ten. Get yourself a cup of coffee." And that was all he needed. Reid let go of the breath he'd been holding and stepped out of the office, his knees feeling a little weak with relief. One down.

He took the few steps to Gideon's office with care. Gideon would be easier. He had told him that he thought of him as a son. Fathers loved their sons unconditionally, didn't they? Real fathers, anyway. He stepped into the office and cleared his throat just as he'd done with Hotch. Gideon looked up from the file he was reading and smiled the welcoming smile that seemed to just happen naturally when it was with people he trusted, namely his team and no one else. The smile faltered a little when he saw the nervousness in Reid's eyes, but he never looked away. He kept his eyes locked with Reid's until Reid couldn't take it anymore and he simply set the picture he'd been gripping in his hand since the car ride on Gideon's desk. Only then did Gideon look away, to look down at the picture. He took his glasses off and studied it for a minute. Reid could see his gaze flitting back and forth between the two prominent figures of the photo, putting together what it all meant. When he looked back up there was a smile on his face. He stood, walked around the desk, and handed Reid the framed picture. He set a hand to his shoulder, squeezed once, and then let go to go back to the file he had set down.

"Should have told us sooner," he commented, not unkindly, as he sat back down and put his glasses back on.

"Should have," Reid shrugged, relieved his voice came out in normal pitch.

"The others are going to want to meet him as soon as possible."

"Why?"

"Well, so Garcia and Prentiss can grill him and Morgan can give him a hard time. They'll have to make the judgment on their own. They're very protective, especially now. One question, though. He knows?"

"He knows." Reid confirmed, then repeated the phrase again, unsure if he was trying to convince Gideon or himself, "We're going to be okay."

"Good. Eight minutes." Then he went back to reading.

"Reid, my man, looking stylish today," Morgan called out as he came out of Gideon's office, "What's up with that?"

It got easier every time, he decided. It should be easiest now. Shouldn't it? He felt his breath hitch again as he walked down the few stairs and to his desk. Maybe it wasn't getting easier. But, he tried to appear confident as he set the framed picture on his desk and looked expectantly at the others, laughing again from something Prentiss had just said, probably about his state of dress. Garcia caught his eye and raised an eyebrow, taking up the picture. She looked at it for a moment, then smiled at him mistily.

"He's cute," she decided, "When do I meet him?"

Morgan took the picture from her hands and he and Emily stared at it for a moment, looked at each other, looked at Reid, then back down at the picture. Reid wrung his hands. Garcia saw the nervous reaction and took one of his hands in both of her own to stop it. She gave him an encouraging smile and made motions for him to talk. To fill them in. Reid cleared his throat and it sounded so loud in his ears that he almost took a step back. Garcia didn't let him, keeping a firm grip on his hand and whispering encouragement.

Reid cleared his throat again and began, "Uh . . . his name is Lance. We've been together for almost two years. He's . . . uh . . . he stars in musicals on Broadway. He just got back from London. He knows. And . . . uh . . . he's sticking," he felt the confidence that comes with certainty and made sure his next statement was strong, "I love him and he loves me."

"Reid, I never thought . . . I mean . . . you hid it so well . . . I just . . . why didn't you tell us about this sooner?" Emily stammered. This was a question he could answer, something he had thought about for months. This question was easy.

"At first, I was confused myself. I wasn't sure if it was going to last. It was so new, something I'd never really considered. Then, after a while, I wanted to keep him to myself. We know so much about each other, everything really. I wanted something that was just mine. Then, I was worried about what you guys would say. What you would think. You're the most important people in the world to me and . . ."

"Okay," Morgan interrupted, holding up a hand, "Now you're starting to piss me off. Did you think it would change anything? Did you think we would think less of you?"

"A lot of people don't think highly of . . ."

"We're not a lot of people, Reid! We're your team. We've seen you at your best and at your worst. Why the Hell would you think this would change anything?"

"I . . . I just . . ."

"You . . . you just what?" Morgan took a step toward Reid.

"Okay!" Emily stepped between them and held up her hands, "Morgan, calm down. You're being an asshole. And, Reid, don't you ever hide something like this from us again. That's no way to show that you trust your team mates," she paused for a moment, looking for a way to diffuse tempers, then on sudden inspiration added, "You butthead." Garcia snorted, trying to hold back a laugh. At Garcia's snort Reid had to struggle not to laugh as well. Emily smiled widely.

Morgan, getting ready to turn his anger to her, paused, then laughed, "You butthead?"

She shrugged, "Only word I could think of at the moment." That did Garcia and Reid in and soon they were laughing as hard as they could, laughing long and loud. The kind of laugh people can't help but join in. Soon all four of them were laughing, leaning on the desks and fighting to remain upright. They calmed immediately when Hotch called for them in the round table room, a condition of their training and professionalism. Garcia gave him a big hug and whispered that she loved him before moving toward the room. She looked pointedly at Morgan, then motioned to Emily that they should walk ahead. Emily smiled at Reid, nodding, giving her acceptance before following Garcia. Morgan grabbed Reid's elbow to stop him from walking away.

"I'm still pissed, man," he said lowly, "But probably not for the reason you think. So you're gay. So what? Could have guessed that. But, to keep something like this from us . . . from me. Two years, Reid? I thought we were buddies."

"We are," Reid assured him, "That's why it was hard. I was afraid of losing that. You don't know what it's like to grow up on the outside of everything. Then, to finally meet people who accept you, who like you for yourself only to find out that no matter what, you're still different. I never had buddies growing up, Morgan. You were my first. I couldn't . . . I didn't want to lose it. It means too much."

"Reid, no matter what you do, we're always buddies. But, I can understand feeling isolated like that. You're just lucking you're dying, genius. Any of my other buddies I would have pounded on for keeping something like this from me," he paused for a moment, slung his arm around Reid's neck, then began walking toward the conference room, pausing to set the photo on Reid's desk.

"Pounded on?" Reid half laughed at the jokes. Lucky he was dying. Sure. At least Morgan had the heart to joke about it. That meant he wasn't going to treat Reid like glass for the remainder of his life. That, in itself was something to be grateful for, "You would have pounded on me?"

"We all have different ways of expressing our love," Morgan grinned and rubbed a fist over Reid's hair, causing him to pull away on a laugh, "So, you got any more heart-attack worthy surprises you're planning on springing on us any time soon? 'Cause I just don't know if we can keep taking all these shocks. It's just not good for our health."

"No," Reid smiled, "No more. Fresh out. Unless you count the fact that I'll be dressing better from now on. It helps when your boyfriend is extremely fashion forward."

"God help us," Morgan groaned, "Dude, that is heart attack worthy, Mr. Cords and Sweater Vests."

Reid shrugged and held his hands up, "Sorry. Nothing I can do. Lance has probably burned all the old stuff by now anyway. He hated it. He only let me keep it to keep you guys fooled."

"It worked," Emily laughed, catching the last part of the conversation as they all sat, "No self-respecting gay man I know wears sweater vests."

It felt good to laugh with all of them as if his sexuality had never been an issue. Reid looked around the table as JJ started her briefing on the child kidnapping that had just been called in. So, it was just as easy as that. If he'd known he would have told them long ago. No, he shook his head, he probably wouldn't have. Dying had a way of making it sort of urgent that those he loved knew exactly who he was. No more hiding, no more half-truths. He leaned back in his chair. It was all in place now, every part of his heart. Too bad it had taken him so long. He felt the headache intensifying as the meeting wore on, the ever constant reminder that he was not long for the world. Not anymore. The thought wouldn't have scared him a year ago. But now . . . God, he wished he had more time.


	11. Chapter 11

All previous disclaimers apply.

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long to get up. Please remember that this was started before season three, so anything that has happened so far in season three does not apply. Thank you to everyone who continues to read this.

Some days forgetting was easy. Some days it was almost the easiest thing he could do. Those were the days he spent with Lance in a park on a weekend, sitting against Lance's chest as they watched the sun set over a small pond. Lance would whisper everything and nothing in his ear and they wouldn't notice anything but each other. On those days when Lance was working and he was not, he might spend an afternoon with Hotch, Haley, and Jack just enjoying the family atmosphere. It seemed that Hotch had decided to take him on as a younger brother and did everything he could to make him feel like he was family. He was growing closer to Haley as well and appreciated the motherly way she would ask after his appetite and his headaches, then run her hand over his hair and drop a kiss to the crown of his head without thinking about it. He had the great pleasure of being able to watch as Haley grew with a second child and see her and Hotch's joy in it. Some evenings he went over to Morgan and Garcia's apartment and had a dinner with a little too much wine, giving him an excuse to lose all inhibitions once Lance took him home. They were the ones who made him laugh until he couldn't breathe and tears were running down his face. JJ and Emily dragged him shopping as often as he could stand it, which wasn't often, but it was always more fun than he let on. They ate horribly greasy food at some mall while JJ and Emily ranked the men who passed them. Reid refused to give into the game most of the time, telling them that he was in a stable, wonderful relationship and that he didn't need to check anyone else out. They asked him what the point was in having a gay guy for a friend if he wouldn't check out guys with them. He told them that he would tell them honestly if those pants did indeed make them look fat. That conversation ended with them pelting him with French fries until he begged for mercy. He never mentioned fat and JJ or Emily in the same sentence again. It had only been a joke, but still, better safe than sorry.

Despite everyone being as wonderful as they were, it was Gideon who made it easiest for him to forget for a little while. He was treating him differently than he used to. They all were. How could they not? But, the way that Gideon treated him gave him something he'd never really had in his life. Gideon became his father. They did things a normal father and grown son would do. They went fishing at Gideon's cabin. They went to sporting events that Gideon had to explain to him most of the time, drank warm beer, and ate processed meat on a bun. He could never seem to call it a hot dog. It just brought too many images to mind associated with the term. Sometimes it was a pain to have read as much as he had. Gideon helped him learn to be comfortable in silence and stillness when he never really had before. It was learning this that finally brought him the peace he had been pretending to feel. They would sit in a little boat only big enough for two of them, fishing rods in the water, not really trying to catch anything, and usually say nothing.

"This is called the gloaming," Gideon told him once just as the sun was getting ready to go down, "This hour right at sunset." Reid had been tempted to say that he knew the definition of the word, but he wanted to hear what Gideon had to say first, so instead he just made a noise from the back of his throat in acknowledgement.

"Just sit still for long enough," Gideon continued, his voice low and gentle, "You can almost hear the world waiting . . . just waiting . . . for that exact moment when the sun slips below the horizon. In that moment it's like the world holds her breath. Time stops. Nothing makes a sound. It's magic . . . or as close as things can come to magic nowadays."

"I think . . ." He responded after thinking about what Gideon had said for a few moments, "That if I could choose . . . this is the time of day that I would want to die."

Gideon had simply nodded, not trying to deny what the man he had taken as his second son was saying.

"When I do go, Gideon . . . I don't want to be in a hospital. I've done my research and it's probably going to get pretty bad before I do finally go. From where my tumor is located it's . . . it's very likely that I'll be . . . blind, probably in constant pain, and I won't be able to discern the difference between temperatures. I might not be able to move. I . . ."

"Reid," Gideon had reached over and squeezed his shoulder, "I'll take care of it. You'll be comfortable. We won't leave you in a hospital."

"Could I . . . I mean . . . would you . . ." He didn't know how to put what he wanted to ask into words. It wasn't something one asked every day.

"Do you want it to be here, Reid?"

"I . . ." Reid couldn't figure out what to say when confronted with the exact thought in his head coming from someone else's mouth. The next statement Gideon made had him breathing in deeply and finally settling something deep in his soul.

"It would be an honor . . . son."

It was so natural to respond, "Thank you . . . Dad."

This all happened, of course, in between cases that kept them away from Virginia for far longer than Reid would have preferred, but it was their job. If there was one thing that was able to keep Reid sane it was the fact that he was able to continue working as he had before his world had changed forever. If anything, the fact that he wasn't going to be around for much longer made Reid sharper. Of course, he had always amazed them, but now he was simply stunning. His mind made connections with lightning speed, he went through possibilities faster than they could think, and, yet, he smiled, laughed, and joked more than he ever had before. In short, Spencer Reid was finally living his life exactly how he had always wanted.

For eight wonderful months everything seemed perfect. He went to Lance's opening, thought his heart would burst with pride when Lance was nominated for a Tony, and almost broke down when Lance won that Tony. They made their civil union official in a small, intimate ceremony with only their closest friends and couldn't be happier. They bought a puppy and laughed a lot as they trained it. They called him Tristan, a personal joke for both of them. On vacation time they went to Las Vegas and spent as much time with Reid's mother as they could. Reid tried to explain to her what was happening. In a lucid moment, she understood and cried with him. The next day she didn't remember what he'd told her. He made his arrangements for her and spoke on the phone with her every day after that. For eight months, he was content. Of course, his headaches were getting worse, but a higher pain prescription and more sleeping took care of that easily. It was when things were going right that everything fell apart. The beginning of the end took them all by surprise.

Reid was pouring his coffee one morning at work when Morgan snuck up behind him and shouted his good morning. Always a little on edge, (How could any of them not be with their line of work?) Reid jumped, spilling fresh coffee all over the hand that had been holding his mug.

"Jesus, man, I'm sorry! I didn't expect you'd jump so high!" Morgan tried to apologize, but Reid just kept looking down at his hand, his eyes wide. He dropped the mug and the coffee pot, not noticing as both shattered at his feet and soaked both his and Morgan's pants, and just looked. Morgan jumped away from the heat, swearing, then went quickly silent as he looked up at Reid, still frozen.

"Reid, man, what's wrong?" He asked after a moment.

"I . . . I . . . Morgan," Reid looked up at him, eyes wild and terrified, "Morgan, I can't feel it. I can't feel the burn. It doesn't hurt. I . . ." He began to breathe harshly in panic.

"Wait a minute," Morgan instructed, going to the refrigerator, "Might just be a fluke. Just wait," Fighting down his own panic, he opened the freezer and grabbed an ice cube. He walked slowly back to Reid, trying to keep them both calm. Reid held out his hand, knowing what Derek wanted. They both held their breath as Derek gently ran the cube up and down Reid's arm until his fingers were too numb to hold it.

"Nothing," Reid whispered when they finally looked up at each other again, "Oh, God." They just stared at each other for nearly two minutes, unable to say anything at all. Then, Reid's face went blank for a moment just before his eyes had rolled back in his head, and he simply collapsed. Derek caught him before he could hit the floor.

"Reid? Reid, come on, man. Wake up. Come on, buddy." But Reid didn't wake when Derek shook him gently as he knelt on the ground, with the younger agent in his arms. He didn't wake when Derek patted his face gently and rubbed the ice cube over his brow. It was then that Derek couldn't breathe. Reid hadn't just fainted from shock. There was something very wrong.

"Call an ambulance!" He shouted at the next person to walk in. Then, he turned his attention back to Reid and did something he hadn't done in a very long time. Derek Morgan began to pray.


	12. Chapter 12

All previous disclaimers apply.

It was strange how fast life could change, Lance Archer mused as he slouched in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, trying to keep his emotions in check and mind from racing. Was it just yesterday that he and Spence had been so happy, relaxing at home watching movies and ordering in for dinner? They had laughed so hard when both of them were defeated by the chopsticks and tried to hide it from each other. Spence had been the one to break down and get a fork first, but Lance hadn't been far behind. It had been a perfect day, just the two of them. This morning had been fine. He'd gotten up early for his eight o'clock dance class and was leaving just as Spence was getting up to shower for work. Everything had been fine. How could just an hour and a half change all of it? Derrick had told him that Spence had spilled coffee on himself, and then panicked a little when he realized that he couldn't feel the heat or the pain on his skin. They'd tried ice and Spence hadn't been able to feel that either. Then, he had just collapsed and nothing any of them did could get him to wake up. The ambulance had been there in minutes. Gideon had gone with Spence to the hospital while the others followed. Penelope had called him on the way to the hospital and told him what had happened. He had left dance class immediately. Now, he stared at the dozen paper coffee cups on the table that they had created between them in the past two hours as they waited, unable to do anything else.

"Lance, are you doing okay?" JJ asked quietly, handing him yet another cup of coffee. He took a sip, made a face and set it down before pausing to consider what she was asking.

Was he doing okay? How did one answer that question when the man you loved was dying and there was nothing you could do to stop it? Because no matter what he did now, no matter how much he wished or prayed Spence was going to die. And it would be sooner rather than later. He could never regret the fact that he loved Spencer. He was the brightest thing in his life, but he just wasn't sure how he was supposed to deal with the fact that he was going to lose him. He had always known that Spence's job was dangerous and there was a chance of him getting hurt or killed, but the threat had been so vague. Spence had survived a kidnapping once, then come through the subsequent drug addiction stronger for all he had gone through. If there was such a thing as karma, it kind of owed him. So, Lance had never even paused to consider what life would be like without his unbearably sweet, shy genius. Losing him was never an option. The past eight months, even knowing what he knew, had been so wonderful, he'd almost been able to forget. Of course, that was what Spence had said he wanted, so he'd just let it happen. But, now he couldn't forget it anymore.

"Yes and no," he answered dryly.

Then, JJ did something he hadn't been expecting. She sat down next to him, took his hand in hers and laid her head against his shoulder. They, the whole team, had been extremely nice to him since he had met them. But, in the end they were still Spence's family and there would always be a little distance from the in-law. He was surprised at JJ actions, but he couldn't say that they made him unhappy in any way. He needed someone to talk to. His friends were all very supportive, but they just couldn't understand what he was going through. The team knew, JJ knew, because they all loved Spence, too. It was a different way than he loved him, but it was still love.

"I know what you mean," she murmured, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Did he want to talk about it? He considered again. Yes, he did want to talk about it. But, fate, it seemed, conspired against him. A doctor called out Spencer's name and they all gathered around. The doctor seemed surprised that there were so many of them there for him, but recovered well. For some reason, Lance couldn't seem to hear a thing he said. The sound of the ocean was in his ears and he could only blink stupidly as he watched the doctor's mouth move. Spencer was dead, he knew it. He felt the bile rise in his throat and his breath begin to hitch. He reached for JJ's hand again, needing her support, as darkness began to close in over his head. Finally, her voice reached him.

"Lance?" JJ was a little more shrill than she intended to be when Lance reached for her hand and she turned around to give him an encouraging smile only to see him pale as snow, struggling to breathe, and rocking back on his heels. She felt a momentary panic, and was glad when Gideon kept a cool head and stepped in front of the younger man.

"Lance," he said quietly, but firmly, "Lance, look at me." He waited until the sharp grey eyes focused on him, "Take a set, son." Lance collapsed more than sat in the chair. Gideon went to his knees in front of him and set a hand to the young man's chest, "Breathe with me, Lance. Look into my eyes and breathe with me. That's it. Good boy. Deep breaths." Gideon's voice was calm and gentle as he talked Lance down from his panic attack. When he was sure that Lance was calm enough again, he began to repeat what the doctor had told them, sure that Lance hadn't heard a word of it, "Spencer is doing okay, Lance. He had a stress induced seizure this morning when he realized he couldn't feel pain any longer. He is conscious now and asking for all of us, but mostly for you. I need to know if you can be calm for him."

Lance took a few more moments, breathing with Gideon before looking up at him. His voice was still a little unsteady when he answered, but his eyes were determined, "I'm fine," he answered, "I want to see Spencer."

"I think if the two of you went in at the same time it would be okay," the young doctor said quietly. She had known what it would mean to be a doctor when she had decided that it was what she wanted to do with her life, but it never really got any easier, "I think he would like it. Then, a couple more and so forth. But, I think it would be best if only one or two stayed the night." She was no fool. The young man in the room down the hall was dying and these people were family. You did not tell the family of the dying that there was such a thing as visiting hours. But, she could make suggestions based on what was best for her patient. It would be best if the sweet young man did not have to worry about all of them being comfortable tonight. She was glad when they all nodded their understanding.

"If you'll just come with me," she motioned and began to walk down the hall. When the two men were at her sides, she began to speak quietly, "We've looked at his latest scans. It looks like things are going to start progressing pretty fast from here on out. Probably less than a month. He told me that he's requested a specific place to . . . pass. I have the names of a couple of good in-house hospice nurses. Here, this room."

Gideon motioned for Lance to go on ahead in while he spoke with the doctor a little more. He listened carefully to what the doctor had to say, but couldn't take his eyes off of Reid as Lance went in, leaned over, and gently kissed the man he loved. Reid looked tired, but he smiled at Lance and even laughed a little as Lance nudged him a little to lay in the bed with him. When the doctor had finally finished, giving him the numbers of the nurses she recommended, he walked into the room to see Lance stroking Reid's hair as Reid began to cry.

"I'm so sorry, Dad," he murmured, burying his face in Lance's shoulder.

Of all the things Gideon had expected Reid to say, that wasn't one and he couldn't help the surprised, "For what?"

"I . . . I don't know. I'm just so . . . sorry!"

"Spencer . . ." Gideon took Spencer's chin in his hand and gently turned his face so that Reid was looking at him, "Son, you have nothing to be sorry for. You're just tired. We're going to get you out of here tomorrow and take you up to the cabin. You can relax there. I'll be there, and Lance will be there, every day. You do not need to apologize for anything. If you don't understand it by now, I'm not sure you ever will. There is nothing you could ever do . . . I . . . I love you, son."

Then, he held his son and the man his son loved and they all wept quietly together. They wept for what they knew was coming. They wept for so many things they would never experience together. They wept for what little time they had left. And they wept because they knew they would not allow themselves to do so again.


	13. Chapter 13

* * *

All previous disclaimers apply.

**Author's Note: Well, I've given the warning before, and I'm sorry if this makes some of you sad, but this is the chapter in which Reid dies. I'm sorry, but there will be no last minute miracle. Please, if it's just going to make you angry, don't read the chapter. There will be one last chapter after this one, and then the story will be complete. Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck by this story and continued to review. I really, really, really appreciate it. Please check out my other stories if you have the time!**

**P.S. Since the entirety of Gideon's cabin was never shown, I'm just going to make up that it is on a pond and such . . . If it contradicts something in the show, I apologize.**

"Are you comfortable?" Lance's voice was quiet as he and Reid lay on the deep porch swing together as the sun began to set over the pond. Reid smiled a little. It was a question he'd heard at least a hundred times a day for the past month, but somehow, when Lance or any of the team said it, it only made him love them more. They never asked him if he was in pain, because there was always a constant dull ache in his head that could at times flare into something unbearable, as they all knew. Those were the times he just waited patiently for the pain meds to knock him out while either Lance or Gideon rubbed his back and spoke soothingly of whatever came into their minds. It wasn't really what they said at those times, but rather how they said it. None of them ever asked him if he was okay, like the good-natured, well-meaning nurse did. She was sweet, but she asked the most ridiculous questions sometimes. They only asked the one question that could have some meaning now. Was he comfortable? Lying against Lance's strong back, feeling one arm around his waist and one around his shoulders, the last light of day on his face, there was only one answer.

"Extremely," he murmured, a little sleepily. When he was this comfortable, the pain in his head didn't matter, the fact that he hadn't been able to see a single thing for nearly three weeks didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that he was in Lance's arms while Gideon sat in one of the chairs next to them and they were all able to just be in the quiet, waiting for that one special moment of the day that they shared every day, just the three of them.

Reid had only one regret about the loss of his sight. He wasn't able to see the baby when Hotch and Haley brought her by. Reed Isolde Hotchner had been born exactly a week to the day he had come to the cabin. Seven pounds and four ounces, nineteen inches long, with a surprising amount of dark hair just like her father's. The birthing had been easy and short compared to Jack's. Whereas Haley had been seventeen hours with Jack, Reed had made her appearance just four hours after Haley was admitted to the hospital. She was a healthy, beautiful little thing with bright blue eyes. Everyone said that even though she wasn't supposed to be able to focus on anything specifically quite yet, she was always looking at Reid as if she was trying to figure him out. Reid, who had been so uncomfortable around children all of his adult life, loved to hold her. He loved to hear the little noises she made and loved the fresh powdery scent she always seemed to have. Haley brought Reed and Jack by everyday, even though the cabin was extremely out of the way for her. Sometimes they stayed for hours and he was privileged to hear Gideon reading to Jack or Lance playing cars with him. Sometimes Haley would lie in the bed next to him with the baby and sing them both to sleep while she rubbed ran her fingers through his hair over and over. It was her attempt to help his headaches, and while it did nothing for those, it always helped to soothe him so he never told her.

He was lucky he had only just begun to lose his sight when Derrick and Penelope had married at the cabin. It had been a little darker and harder, but he had been able to see how beautiful Penelope looked, how often Derrick beamed at the woman he loved. They had all worn white and watched as a justice of the peace witnessed them declare their love to the world. It had been a beautiful June evening with just the right amount of breeze to keep them all cool. Earlier in the day Reid and Lance had hung little white Christmas lights around the cabin around the cabin porch so that they could stay outside after the sun had gone down. So, they spent hours on the porch celebrating with wine and music and laughter. It had been a perfect night, surrounded by those he loved the most. The more time he spent at the cabin, the more he realized the perfection and beauty in everyday matters. He thought sometimes that he was getting too sentimental because the end of his life was so near, but then Lance would say something, or Gideon would read to him from one of his favorite books without being asked and he realized that it was alright to be sentimental. He was happy. Perhaps that was all that really mattered.

"Lance?"

"Hmm?"

"Sing for me?" The request was one he had made often. Lance didn't even need to ask him what song. He just began quietly. It was their song. Reid had first heard Lance perform it at a benefit concert and had asked him to sing it for him again when they were happy or sad or just because. It wasn't so much the tune. It was the words. They were beautiful. Now that he had Lance and his family he also believed that they were true.

_Perhaps love is like a resting place, a shelter from the storm_

_It exists to give you comfort, it is there to keep you warm_

_And in those times of trouble when you are most alone_

_The memory of love will bring you home_

_Perhaps love is like a window, perhaps an open door_

_It invites you to come closer, it wants to show you more_

_And even if you lose yourself and don't know what to do_

_The memory of love will see you through_

_Love to some is like a cloud, to some as strong as steel_

_For some a way of living, for some a way to feel_

_And some say love is holding on and some say letting go_

_And some say love is everything, and some say they don't know_

_Perhaps love is like the ocean, full of conflict, full of pain _

_Like a fire when it's cold outside, thunder when it rains_

_If I should live forever, and all my dreams come true_

_My memories of love will be of you_

"Some say love is holding on," He whispered, holding tighter to Lance's arm around his shoulders. He didn't know how it was possible, but . . . he knew. It was time. There was no pain anymore. The sun was setting, soon would be his moment. He would slip from the world in the exact moment it held its breath. The magic moment his father had told him about. And there was such peace. He realized he was ready. He had lived his life as he wanted, done things he loved, found someone he would have walked through Hell for and a family that would walk through Hell for him, "Some say . . . letting go. I love you, Lance."

"I love you, too." Lance kissed his hair.

"Dad . . . I love you," he reached for Gideon and smiled when Gideon took hold of his hand.

"I love you, too, son." There were unshed tears in Gideon's voice. He understood.

Time. Time stopped. One moment a day when the world held her breath. Reid breathed out one final time and, with a smile . . . let himself go.


	14. Chapter 14

All previous disclaimers apply.

**Author's Note: This is an epilogue and the last chapter. Thank you so much to all who read all the way through.**

"Penelope?"

Penelope Morgan couldn't help the smile that spread across her face when the familiar voice she hadn't heard in so long called out to her. She wasted no time and spun around quickly, immediately grabbing the handsome man standing in front of her into a tight hug. She was relieved when she heard the breathless chuckle and felt the arms go around her. It wasn't that she hadn't expected him to respond to her, she just wondered if she had been too enthusiastic about it.

"Lance." She said quietly as he stroked her hair, holding onto her almost as tightly as she was holding on to him. The tears slicked her throat, but she refused to let them fall, "Going to see him?"

"It is his birthday," Lance reasoned.

"That it is," she responded, pulling away and looking up into his bright grey eyes, "Want to walk with me?"

"Yeah." Even as they walked, they didn't let go of each other, their fingers remained linked.

"So . . ." she broke the silence after a minute, "What have you been up to lately? Last we heard you were back in London getting another new show together but that was . . . gee, I guess two years ago."

"Yeah. Well, that show moved to Broadway, then closed two months later. A rather brilliant failure, actually." They both smiled, though not at each other, "I got an offer to do television right after it, but I turned it down. Then, I did another show, a revival, and got another television offer. I took it up. We just finished shooting the pilot. It should be airing in a few months."

"Hmm," she made a sound of acknowledgement, "What's it about?"

"It's a crime show," he laughed a little, "I'm a brilliant, but moody, detective who can't seem to make a commitment to his girlfriend of years."

"Sounds fun," she laughed with him. She wouldn't ask him if he was seeing anyone. They both knew that if he ever began to date again it wouldn't be for a very, very long time.

"It is," he assented, "And you?"

"Oh, you know, kicking butt and taking names. All electronically, of course," she held tighter to his hand as they approached the beautiful cast iron gate and peaceful grounds, "Only now I go home every night and take care of my kids. Bekkah's three now. Diana's two."

"How does Derrick like being a father?"

"Are you kidding me? He's perfect. Only, the girls have him wrapped around their pinkies. It's pretty funny to see. Have you ever seen a big bad FBI agent in a tiara with a tutu meant for a little girl around his neck?"

"Uh . . . no . . ." Lance quirked an eyebrow and tried to hold back his laughter.

"Neither had I, until Saturday when I woke up and found them all in the living room, dancing to the music on the television. Why Derrick was the one in the tutu I still can't get him to say." She gave a long suffering sigh then laughed along with Lance when he couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Derrick still with the BAU?"

"Yeah. We all are except JJ and Gideon. JJ got promoted to Media Coordinator for all of the FBI probably a year ago. Her replacement was a forty year old man. He's grumbly and annoying. None of us like him. We spend most of our off time trying to figure out ways to get him to quit."

"Even Hotch?"

"Sometimes. She's getting married, you know."

"Who? JJ?"

"Yeah. This summer. I know she would want you there, Lance. It's hard, I know, but we all still want to know how you're doing. We think about you all the time. Every time we think of him. That's an awful lot, sweetheart. But, you just kind of disappeared on us."

"I know," they stopped and Lance pulled his hand away from hers to shove both hands in the pockets of his jeans, "It's not that I was avoiding . . . wait, yes it was. I was avoiding you all. I . . . needed some time. I just . . . I loved him so much. When he . . . afterwards, I just needed to get away from everything that reminded me of him. It hurt so much for so long, that I could only take it moment by moment. It was like my heart had been torn out, like I couldn't breathe. So, I cut myself off from everything that he had loved and tried to forget. Then, I realized I didn't want to forget. And . . . I thought maybe I had ruined it with all of you, so I just stayed away. And . . ."

"Sweetheart, breathe," she set a hand to his cheek, "It's okay. I wasn't asking for an explanation, though I'm glad you got that out. I just wanted to tell you."

"Okay," he whispered, allowing her to slip and arm through his as they fell into step, continuing on their way.

"So, you gonna call JJ?" She asked after a moment.

"Yes," he smiled, then took in what she had said earlier, "Gideon's not with the BAU anymore? Where'd he go?"

"About six months after Reid died, Gideon retired. He's still around. He lives at his cabin and gives lectures on a regular basis to new recruits. He's really just kind of enjoying being a grandfather, I think. He'd like to hear from you, too, Lance. More than anyone else, you understand what it was like . . . loving Reid. Completely different loves, of course, but . . . it might help you both a little. He's still hurting."

"I know what that's like," Lance agreed. They were both quiet for a long moment, until Lance broke the silence, "How are Hotch and Emily?"

"Hotch is great. Same old, I suppose. Best team leader ever. Only, he makes sure he's home by five and all weekends as often as possible now. I think he kind of realized that this is it. This is all we have."

"How are the kids?"

"Good. Jack is in kindergarten now. Reed's so cute. She looks like her dad." They stopped in front of the headstone they had been waiting to reach, never taking their eye from it or their hands from one another's, "Emily is dating, believe it or not, an artist. She seems really happy." She just shrugged, unsure of what else to say.

"I'm glad everyone's well," he whispered, his throat closing with the tears he was trying not to shed.

"Maybe we should just say 'Happy Birthday.'"

Lance looked down at the headstone and finally allowed the tears to fall. Four years later and it still hadn't stopped hurting. The pain was a little less sharp than it had been at the beginning, but still just as deep. He had a feeling it would never really stop. In a way, he was grateful for that. He never wanted to forget Spence. He had been the best thing in his life. The one thing that Lance had never really had to work at was loving Spence. It had come so easily. It was still easy now that he was gone. The only thing that was hard now was living without him. Penelope let go of his hand so that he could kneel in front of the grave and set his hand to the name carved in the stone before him.

Penelope didn't try to hide her tears as Lance knelt in front of the gravestone. Reid would always be there, somehow. A little hole in all of their hearts that could never be filled. She missed him everyday. But, she felt him everywhere. In her children's laughter, in the love she saw in Derrick's eyes, even in the sternness of Hotch's voice when they were on a case. He could never truly be gone. She knew the others felt the same way. She believed wholeheartedly what was written on the stone in front of her.

_Those who burn the brightest often extinguish too soon. But, the memory of their light can never be forgotten. It is written on the hearts of those who witnessed it for all of time._

She ran a hand over the top of the stone before she knelt next to Lance and took him in her arms to rock him slowly back and forth as he cried. It would always hurt for all of them. But, someday they would be able to separate the pain of his loss from the happiness of having known him. His life had been too short and he should have been with them much longer, but that could never change how much they had, and continued to love him. So, for him, she turned her face up to the sky, where she knew he was looking down on them, and smiled.

"Happy birthday, baby."


End file.
